A Sequence..

Wet, soaked towels on the floor 
Tears that are made dry
Scars that don’t heal- even with time..
Screams made that no one can hear.
My voice wearied beyond belief
After each and every tear from the fibers worn out
Each plate shattered into pieces..
“But it’s okay, you can get more!”
Still, it won’t change anything.. 
After each day waiting and listening to each and everyone’s thoughts and opinions
I want someone to listen too,
However, no matter what I try I don’t get that.
The world’s weight is all on your shoulders-
Although people say to not be dramatic.
Each and every cut made raw- 
Even with stitches doesn’t fix it all… 
Still, they say not to be dramatic,
Even though they have no idea what’s going through my head and all..
Still pondering why it’s all like this- 
I listen to them and don’t ask for anything in return..
But still they don’t help me back..
Instead it’s in a sequence of sewing the fibers back together even if you don’t want to..
Me feet are scratched raw from the walking barefoot all alone.
All it takes is one person giving me the shoes to keep moving on..