Why can't they just shut up—
for once—
and listen?

Why am I always the one
expected to hear,
to nod,
to stay quiet,
when they don’t even see
what I’m going through?

Why can’t they ask
what I feel like—
just once?

Why can’t they think about me
for once?
Why can’t they see
I’m dying a little
every day?

Every time I try to speak,
they brush it off
like it’s nothing—
like I’m nothing.

And it makes me feel like ****.
Makes me scared
to open my mouth again.
Makes me regret
ever opening up at all.

Because the truth is—
they never listened.
They never heard me.
They never even tried.

And it’s because
they don't gave a **** about me.
Maybe they never did.