All Alone

Am I impalpable?

Am I even here?

Can people even understand me?

Or do my lips spurn different tongues?

Does the world discern me?

Does the world have joy for me having two feet on the ground?

Would it be better if I crawled instead?

Maybe it would just be better if I were gone.

So many sentences are being locked up,

But I know that if I need to cry,

Only a pillow would be there to placate my sobs.

I wait the day,

Where there is a shoulder to spread my droplets of emotion on,

And for hands to cold mine,

The frozen ones.

But would it be helpful for them to be lifeless?

Until that day I must carry on,

With a false grin on my face.

That face which has pain and anger on the other side,

Will anyone ever notice?

Or would the world benefit from me being dead?