Long Plea for help Poems
Long Plea for help Poems. Below are the most popular long Plea for help by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plea for help poems by poem length and keyword.
Without my pen, the pain becomes my voice.
The cruelty of others, the hardness of their hearts,
Linger in this place of cult,
Where public shaming is currency.
I scream for help, face to face,
Yet they cast me deeper into despair.
Tears bleed red, patience drains,
My heart trembles, a silent echo in the vast universe.
My eyes never dry, my body weakens,
Heart torn apart, full of anguish,
Yet no one feels the depth within;
They mistrust the plea for help.
This is my story, my life—
Manipulated by whispers,
By cults hiding in plain sight.
Insecurity among them breeds cruelty.
They lurk at corners, ready to strike.
I called for help. He laughed: "You're funny."
How can real danger ever sound like a joke?
This is the world's cruel reality:
Where chasing money and shifting blame
Leave no space for help.
And still—I believe, somewhere, somehow,
kindness awaits—
like a single candle glimmering
in the heart of the void.
When she texts too much —
her mother, her father, her brother, her sister, her friend —
it’s not a cry for attention.
It’s not a plea for validation.
It’s a plea for help.
A plea for someone to listen.
For someone to see past the surface, past the “lol’s” and the jokes.
A plea for someone to see that she is hurting.
She wants nothing from you but a response.
A response that makes her feel less alone.
A response that shows she matters, even when she’s overanalyzing everything.
A response that notices she is not okay.
She is struggling.
You may not see it.
She hides it behind jokes:
“It’s okay,” she says.
“I’m just being dramatic.”
“I’m just emotional.”
“I’m not breaking. I’m not hurting. You don’t have to worry.”
But maybe you do.
Maybe she’s minimizing it.
Maybe she’s carrying the weight of her own pain — and everyone else’s — alone.
They don’t want to see her pain.
Her illness.
How much it affects her.
And she doesn’t want them to see.
Will they truly understand?
Have they even tried?
A girl with two chronic illnesses,
trying to be there for everyone but herself —
or will they dismiss her because they don’t understand?
Because they didn’t make an effort?
Her suffering isn’t enough to be seen.
She isn’t enough to be seen.
Her physical and mental pain become
just another conversation,
something they think she’s exaggerating
or using for sympathy.
No one knows the pain she feels
inside herself, outside herself,
for the people around her.
She carries it every day.
Every day it gets heavier.
Every day it wears her down more.
Every day she is tired.
And every day she hopes
someone will notice
before the weight becomes too heavy to carry anymore
I read that book
When I was way to young
To understand
Its intricacies
The utter
Humanness
Of the plot
The re-read
Left me
In a state of
Panic'an
Bileness
Shreds my emotions
Like your mouth is
Just before
Being sick
The helplessness
As the two
Plea for help
From each other
As madness
Slowly encroaches
As they cannot
Make head nor tail
Of life
And what
It doesn’t offer
The missing piece
Was just them
On my book shelf
All this time
It
Just there
Made a thousand
Curtains fall
And I
Just sat
On the floor
In awe
Of what stood beyond
Those curtain falls
Funny
It was telling me
Something was coming
A couple of weeks
Of intense signs
Except the last one
Before
The falls
I hadn’t
Seen that before
Yet I
Have lived it
I have spoken it
I experienced it
In three years’, time
This insight
To life
Leaves me
Felling flat
As I totally
Understand
The full humanism
Of our situation
And why
It all occurs
I stand
Atop a cliff
Above
The total madness
It
Holds my hand
And speaks
‘You discovered how to walk
Its time
To teach you
How to ride a bike’
I was in the middle of creating when I realized how gloomy everything was turning. I was placing mean words on the paper. I had started with the word inspiration…..so how had this happened? I stared in horror at my words, which had turned dark and angry.
Apparently I had spent too much time in my tomb this weekend – blinds shut, dog on lap, two fourteen hour days of sheer darkness, lit only by unhappy fast moving TV people – detectives, solving murder after murder. A steady diet of UGH.
Have you taken a peek at your children and grandchildren’s video games? I have. They are not much better than what I had done to myself this weekend. But they are younger, and I should have known better. All this yellow tape and meanness to humanity is not good for this garden-loving grandma.
I can only imagine children’s bleak hopelessness on Monday after a steady diet of swear words and killing on the weekends. Has anyone who is an adult played Fortnight? The most popular killing video game and free to your children? I can barely function today after my weekend, and I am supposedly a grownup.
Take a peek at what your children are doing. And help them, and then come to my house, tear down my blinds and break my TV okay?
A love twisted in a high school romance,
Both fixated on puppy dog eyes,
Skipping classes followed by lies,
Predictions to never be seperated,
Only as much as parents tolerated,
They would run if given the chance,
Upon a mellow river rusted a louring mill,
Dim lit repairs by a scarecrow of a man,
Alongside the river it was a small span,
As skeletal hands of the mill snag floating logs,
Rising sun now pierces mountain fogs,
A cold chill replaced by warmth that begins to fill,
Brackish waters breed fish teeming angling,
A plaid retiree toats an unknowing burden,
For upon the rocks a body rolled in curtain,
Fumbling hands dial the sheriff's office,
Resulting in a stomach turned nauseous,
Thoughts race from torture to strangling,
Students murmor rumors over empty chairs,
As sherriff pulls students for questioning,
While a plea for help at a parent's beckoning,
Cries heard aloud through echoing halls,
Answers from questions expose a plethora of flaws,
Tensions tighten because this small town cares,
Foghorns sound as headlights cross beams,
Moonlit mist hides a livid discord,
Only witness, a fisherman shipboard,
Rocks shuffle around steadfast feet,
Argument ends in the shore's peat,
Unwanted blood spills ending young dreams,
Narrow light leaves a lifeless body luminous,
Examiner removes an entombed clue,
Beneath a fingernail a piece of paper folded in two,
Unfolded the bloodied paper reveals vastly,
An agent must be summoned lastly,
For murders like this may be numerous.
Tears are the prayers that can't be spoken
Love of God is love the can't be broken
Dreams are wishes for God to see
Thoughts are ways God talks to me
The devil can talk through thoughts too
Baptism makes those thoughts anew
Confession clears those thoughts of grime
But you must clean them more than one time
The devil isn't all horns and fire
He shows up as whatever you desire
He floods your brain with pride and power
He won't stop until there is none to devour
He'll be a dream, whatever you need
He'll give you everything, fill you with greed
He will take when you are at your lowest
He'll catch you when you are at your slowest
There is only one thing you need the most
It is the father, the son, and the holy ghost
Only those three can stop you from sin
They always conquer, they always win
Now I sit here, thinking about these verses
Is it a prayer to God, or the devil's curses
Is it a plea for help, or a cry to God
Is it a real feeling, or just a facade
I want to say a prayer thst can't be spoken
I want to, but there's a streak that can't be broken
I can't let a tear slip even for my own good
Even if I'm trapped on some piece of driftwood
Even if a bomb would blow me to bits
Oh homework oh homework you're giving me fits
Nature's first green is gold
But this green is getting old
The leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief
I can't have my way
Nothing Gold Can Stay
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame
There is not a chance he could
Stop and take the blame
O Captain, My Captain
I wish you were here
The ship is anchored safe and sound
We miss you very dear
The end is near
Trumpets I hear
The angels all exalting
Once upon this midnight dreary, I'm feeling lost, weak and weary
I feel sick in my stomach waiting for more
My time has come, I hear the knocking at my door
But there's just some bird there saying, "nevermore"
In a land where shadows linger long,
A tale unfolds of a people's song.
Apartheid's chains, a cruel embrace,
Enslaved hearts in a divided space.
Kindred souls, with no love for gold,
Living lives where stories are told.
No ego's sway, no material desire,
Yet, history unfolds, a somber fire.
Through years of colonization's hand,
A web woven tight across the land.
Black against black, a twisted game,
Materialism's rise, igniting the flame.
Brothers turned enemies, sisters in strife,
A discord sown in the fabric of life.
Marriages crumble, love replaced,
By a hunger for wealth, an insatiable taste.
Men with men, for coin's allure,
Sisters sell bodies, hearts impure.
Fathers oppressed, bearing the weight,
Of a legacy forged in a bitter fate.
Mothers, once pillars, now torn between,
Feminist fervor, a tumult unseen.
Destroying man, a misguided quest,
As unity crumbles, a nation oppressed.
In the chaos, a stark divide,
White families thrive, with values beside.
Raising children free from trauma's stain,
While others suffer from history's pain.
Land ownership a tale of despair,
As the majority's share becomes rare.
Charges for power, land, and more,
A cruel toll on a people's core.
Nelson Mandela, once hailed with cheer,
Now accused, a clone, a double near.
ANC's leaders, bellies filled with greed,
Stealing from those with the greatest need.
A nation weeps, in sorrow and woe,
As the coming generation begins to sow,
Seeds of despair, young lives entwined,
In a web of darkness, seeking to find.
Awakening sought in the depths of despair,
A plea for help, a nation's prayer.
To break the chains and rise above,
Reclaiming a heritage, a legacy of love.
I am buried alive
My thoughts and actions digging me deeper
These transgressions surround me
Forming a coffin I'm bound in
A living beast I'm sentenced to
These claw marks are my struggles
My plea for help
As darkness creeps heavier and heavier on my soul
A beam of light presents itself
Freedom
Lend a hand and set me free
And I promise to do the same for you
Where is your shovel?
Where is your weapon of choice?
I'm falling deeper and deeper into this abyss
Just let me hear your voice
I am being lifted
I can finally breath the sweet moist air
The smell of death and soil surrounds me
But all I see is light
A mirror
And my reflection is the grave digger
I put myself here
Clothed in pig's skin
With a crown of bones
I have demonized me
Lend me a hand and set me free
And I promise to do the same for you
Where is your shovel?
Where is your weapon of choice?
I'm falling deeper and deeper into this abyss
Just let me hear your voice
Let me leave this place of death
If you'll open the gate
I promise I'll walk through
Cleanse me and bathe me
Show me your forgiving hand
Show me what forgiveness is
Bury this cloak of filth
These things that weigh me down
You dig the hole
And I'll toss this aside
I'm burying myself again
Walking away a new creation