Lonesome

The world is loud.

Traffic, cars zooming around,

It’s hard to hear.

If the end is near,

But I prefer silence.

A peaceful protester in a world of violence.

I yearn not to feel.

It’s been 3 years and my soul hasn’t healed.

Why am I breathing?

If everyone I loved is leaving?

They don’t understand.

You didn’t understand.

I just need a helping hand,

But everyone is letting me drown.

And now I’m having thoughts of hitting the ground.






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