Looking back

8 0 0
                                    

Crying for the future,
Not meant to be.
Wasting my breath,
Wasting my life,
Calling back,
To the ones I left behind.
Wanting to turn back,
Stretch out an arm,
To help them,
Get to their feet.
But they didn't.
Not when I needed them.
So why should I.

PoetryWhere stories live. Discover now