Screams with no voice,
I'm a silent cry for help.
Alone in a room crowded,
yet there's no one else.
No one left to turn to,
on the right are blind views.
Trying to be mindful,
but no thought insightful.
My heart is a rotten fruit,
worm food, beyond bruised.
The hurt just cycles til my
legs ache from the miscues.
What ever am I doing wrong
not to have found a last love?
Why hasn't anyone kept me
first, like I was never enough?
—JG

