“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.