Sometimes I feel like
I know all of the sad girls
in the whole wide world.

They call me crying,
or text me in the middle
of panic attacks.

They want attention
but only for themselves so
I disappoint them.

Morally bereft;
selfish for not suffering,
or not like they do.

I am an angel,
but only by default, or
just for being here.

Only for staying
a stationary angel;
to suffer with them.

I have grown heavy,
from their tears and loneliness
and their jealousy.

I can't fall asleep,
at least easily, because
of all the sad girls.