Suicidal

I go about everyday with it inside
I can’t keep it up any longer
I need to get it out
I go to tell someone
But every time I do, the time is never right
People are more busy with themselves,
To be bothered about me and my problems
I’m dying and no one cares
I’m crying but they look the other way
What is it about me, is it something I can’t see
I need to know
I can’t live like this any longer; it’s driving me crazy
It’s not like I am asking for much
All I’m asking for is someone to listen to me and care for me
Is that too much to ask for?


Joanne Kennedy February 1998