The Martyr.
I'm an afterthought-
Though I make so many calls in hopes that they'll let me know that I matter,
reciprocity seems out of the question.
My heart, ears, and mind are open to their grievances
I bleed with them willingly.
In spite of my personal struggles,
I think of them fondly and offer whatever's left.
So why can't they see me in my struggle?
Can't I be held?
Reassured that things will be alright?
Perhaps a phone call-
Christ, just let me know you're there!
Share your woes- I'll offer my broken arms to cradle you.
Come to me shivering- I'll ward away your hypothermia with my blood- it'll last until you've been saved.
All I want is your time- is that too much?
Though I'm not all that strong, I'll do my best to bear it with you.
All I ask is for you to see me for who I am.
Acknowledge me.
Please.
I can't stand this anymore.
There's no point in waxing poetic or intellectual; I'm wounded, and this is the worst it's ever been.
Not that you care.
Though I make so many calls in hopes that they'll let me know that I matter,
reciprocity seems out of the question.
My heart, ears, and mind are open to their grievances
I bleed with them willingly.
In spite of my personal struggles,
I think of them fondly and offer whatever's left.
So why can't they see me in my struggle?
Can't I be held?
Reassured that things will be alright?
Perhaps a phone call-
Christ, just let me know you're there!
Share your woes- I'll offer my broken arms to cradle you.
Come to me shivering- I'll ward away your hypothermia with my blood- it'll last until you've been saved.
All I want is your time- is that too much?
Though I'm not all that strong, I'll do my best to bear it with you.
All I ask is for you to see me for who I am.
Acknowledge me.
Please.
I can't stand this anymore.
There's no point in waxing poetic or intellectual; I'm wounded, and this is the worst it's ever been.
Not that you care.