No One
Starry nights,
laying wide-awake;
lost in thoughts dark and deep.
No one sings lullabies
by your bedside
to ease you to sleep.
Cold nights,
curled up in woe;
starving to the core.
No one cares
if you need a repast
or sleep with an echoing stomach sore.
Thunderous nights,
yowling on your knees;
feeling hopeless in a pit.
No one holds you
while you break,
so you fall apart bit by bit.
Full moon nights,
numbing yourself with nicks and cuts;
hoping your hurt will wane.
No one cares
or tells you its going to be okay,
so you go insane.
Every morning you still get out of bed,
when all you want is to be dead;
after living through nights of hell.
No one applauds
or pats your back,
for the times you rose after you fell.
But it’s time old soul
to hum your pacific lullaby,
kill your anti-hero hunger
and stitch your own tatter.
It’s time to pat yourself from the back,
parade your self-love;
for you need no one
to tell you that you matter.
Copyright © Anthea Reddy | Year Posted 2022
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