Left of Me
By Maria
My plea for help today,
fell upon deaf ears.
Sometimes I wonder,
is it because I shed no tears?
Would crying and screaming make them see,
how little is really left of me?
What I need I do not know,
the cuts on my arms I'm forced to show.
The outward signs are plain to see,
there really is something wrong with me.
The quiet pauses tear my heart,
what should I say I forgot my part.
No one's there to feed me lines,
or help me through the slient times.
What can I say?
What do you want to hear?
I hate myself? I'm full of fear?
Are these the things to help you see,
there's something very wrong with me.
