Forgotten

Forgotten by the people who act like they care,

in the mists of time, eternally stuck in the mud as I try to move,

move on;

They're there, blind, I'm the only one who can see, yet I feel more disabled than them.

I am strapped down helpless as the people rip out pieces of my heart to keep, devour;

they don't know how to share.

Within the shadows, waiting, assassins kill me, although their blades miss and hit others,

silver needles falling to the ground, covered in blood.

Nobody I love is deemed worthy of miracles, so they keep falling,

falling,

falling,

falling.....

through the mists of time,

Forgotten.

Author's Note

Please do not suggest making changes to the subject, as this is what I feel. It will be a waste of time on your part. But I am open to anything else!

Reviews

[LoLo]

I really felt this piece... it reminds me of one I wrote called Thinking Out Loud, feel free to read it on my profile... like people aren't seeing you and what your dealing with. In poetry I believe your thoughts are the power behind the words, so yes that can never be changed. Great Job!