Untitled

My words fall on deaf ears
and my voice just bounces back
off of brick walls.
My voice comes back to haunt me.
These words I threw so easily
at you, can’t find a way
to break into your skull,
the ears you so willingly
closed when you heard me approaching
time after time after time.
What will I be left with,
after you leave me?

Who will I have to care
about whether or not
I make it home at night
or wake up in the morning?

Who will listen to me
when I don’t know what to say.
I have to say, this has become
a repeating topic on those
nights when I lay in bed
at night, when I am trying
to talk to God, trying to
listen to God talk back.
Who will listen if your
ears can’t hear me anymore?

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