I'm waiting here,
waiting for you.
But I know you'll never call,
and it hurts,
it hurts.
Every time I know
I'll take the fall
falling still deeper
and deeper.
No matter how loud I am
No one hears me yell
I cry out
again and again
I cry, help
Sometimes I walk around,
wounded,
praying someone will see,
to take me out of this misery,
to please, help me
Yet no one ever sees, and I act happy.
I'm so happy, they see
My oh my, now they see,
thinking they see me,
they see me.
And sometimes it makes me happy,
pretending all the time,
it's something, isn't it?
Their eyes they seem to see me
and it makes me happy,
so, so happy,
sometimes.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Hour
PoesiaNot everything rhymes Not everything has to Of all that is bright And what hides in darkness The loving The hiding The living The Binding It hurts us not To follow a purpose To quell our minds dullness And to find our own fullness. Of sentences Of...
