I Ask for an Ear

All I ask for

Is an ear.


I write because I want to be heard.

No, I beg to be listened to.

See, life isn't something that you can just go through

Alone, without anybody else.

You can't just go for a year

keeping your thoughts, dreams and aspirations close to here,

Never letting them find a listening ear.

Your ambitions are like birds caged up too tight,

They long to fly by day or night!

You can't shut them up and

Not expect to say goodbye

To your happiness;

To your comfort;

To your sanity.


So, I want to be heard.

Not simply read by eyes

That appraise my diction and

Grammatical partitions of speech

My visual lingo,

The way I dress,

Or the way I write, (I do hope to impress)

But how can ink on the paper you see

Or teensy pixels on bright blue screens

Really make you know what I mean?


You see,

The spoken word is how I express myself.

Written is fine, don't get me wrong,

But words become just so much more alive

When they are said in just the right tambre

In exactly the correct manner originally envisioned.

To share precisely what is meant.

To me, that is spoken word.

But the most important word there is to share.

Because words need listeners

Poems need readers

And I don't care who, but

If only a single person on this earth hears these words,

I'll be fine.

I'll know I've at least been heard.


Because I can't spend even a single day alone with my thoughts

All by myselfthey'd rip me to shreds.

I guess our strongest critic and finder of faults is

Living right here in our heads.

We're all in a cage about half an inch thickness

Of milky white bone crania surrounding our intelligences

So I can't be picky about the medium I guess,

Written, spoken, whatever,

But, my thoughts want out!
They can't stay in here forever,

Vanishing before they make their mark

On the outside world.

Our brains are the least positive of workspaces,

Without a doubt, I've observed.

My thoughts are planning a jailbreak together,

But they don't need a ladder made of bedsheets,

They need a ladder of listeners.

So I want to be heard.

By anybody, out there!

Because life is not a journey meant be taken alone,

I swear!

Because life was meant to be shared;

Thoughts were meant to be shared;

Poems were meant to be shared.

So all I ask for

Is an ear.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741