“please make the pain stop.”
it was begging of the utmost
fruitless variety; you see,
the worst kind of torture is when
there’s no one to barter with,
there is no one to whom i can make this plea,
this plea of release and relief and just
oh please make this stop i won’t ask for anything
more if you just make this go away just take
it take the pain and never bring it back oh
please.
but the wind just whispers at the window and teardrops
raindrops stumble down the side of the house down
the window pane down my cheek and paper-thin
eyelids fall closed, pursed like my lips, wincing,
because it isn’t the desperation of the plea —
it’s that no one’s listening.