Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
2d
I slip through strangers,
to reach the front row.
On my tiptoes,
I strain to see you,
to catch a glimpse.
I raise my hand,
hoping you'll see me.
"I'm here," I call.
But you don't care,
and I am lost in the crowd.
Written by
Anonymous  26/Cisgender Female/Most likely in my pajamas
(26/Cisgender Female/Most likely in my pajamas)   
45
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems