I press my hands against the glass.
The cold,
Hard glass.
There are people on the other side,
But they don't see me.
One day,
I awoke,
To find myself trapped,
Locked in this glass box.
No one sees me
No one hears me.
Just me and my box.
Water starts pouring in,
Sending me into a panic.
I bang on the glass,
But no one looks.
The water rises to my knees.
I bang harder,
I shout louder.
But still,
They don't notice.
Another second,
The water is to my waist.
I beat frantically.
Screaming:
"Help me! Help me!"
They start looking at me,
But only for a second.
They just keep walking.
Why?
Are they blind?
Almost to my shoulders.
I become more desperate.
Please!
Help me!
Some of them stop,
They stare.
What are they doing?
Can't they see?
I have to tilt my head to breathe.
The water restricts my movements.
I still call for help.
People are pointing
And running over.
They look concerned.
Did they finally notice me?
The water slips over my head.
The people seem scared
I see them yelling and screaming.
But I can't hear a word.
Their movements become frantic.
They stare at me desperately.
They start pounding on the glass.
Are they trying to help me?
I can't breathe.
It hurts.
I can't hear them.
And as my vision darkens,
I start to wonder
If they were ever there at all.
Please, help me.
My eyes close.
And I hear the glass crack.
YOU ARE READING
Of The Wretched
PoetryA collection of words written by the haunted. Frantic letters, poems, and songs written in the dead of night through the pain of blurred tears and breaking hearts. (Do not worry, I am getting help :) )
