Where Did My Words Go?

My words seem void to their unchanging mind

Each crafted phrase drops to the floor

no one picks them up.

no helpful mediator orders them

 to accept my earnest attempts at having them understand-


with blatant disregard for my attempt at communion,

their words are thrown like darts,

sinking deep into my forgiving skin,

and I must endure each wound with forged disregard.

Suffering through the bleed.


In our youth, words were shared like Sunday meals.

Eagerly accepted, eagerly shared.


My words today are picked and prodded.

They take what they want

 and burn the rest.


This poem is about: 
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

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