I lay on a bed of asphalt.
People walk over me
as if I’m not there,
like I’m not important.

And I suppose I’m not
I’m just a thing for them
to tread on,
they don’t need to acknowledge me.
I am invisible.

And I suppose I don’t mind.
if I’m invisible,
no one can care for me,
and I can’t care for them,
only to disappoint them
and break my own broken heart.

I’m alone,
and it’s meant to be that way.
I’m bad news,
so I’ve been buried away,
I can’t hurt them anymore.
But I’m slowly killing myself,
let’s get this over with quicker.
Help me,
I deserve this.