Each look of Sympathy.
Makes me feel weak.
Useless, worthless, unwanted.
As the rusted penny,
That lies on the bottom
Of the abandoned wishing well.
Waiting for another coin,
To join and share the misery and neglect.
This never happens…
For no one can see the well.
Hidden behind the canopy of trees,
That disguises it from the rest of the world.
No one can hear the fear or sorrow.
For it is invisible,
And unimportant.