SOME DAYS

I demand to be found.
Like lonely children who stay out
Too long in the rain.

My legs dangling beneath me,
Sick with the memory of hands.
Yet, every person I’ve met,

Has been traveling too fast.
No one stopping to answer.
I have gotten so dirty with time.

How do you breathe when the years
Get harder, when no one living knows
Your pain? You’d be disappointed

At how often I had hope for some
Silver lining, but I keep calling & no
One would come running.