The Point?

Huddled in the corner of an alleyway

I sit there on the ground,

The cold, barren ground

It matches my soul.

 

It is pitch black

The only light comes from the still, subtle moon

 

I see few people walk by,

I hear the somewhat faint, distant voices,

I sit and wait if I can hear someone calling my name

Wondering where I am.

 

But I hear nothing,

Nothing at all it is dead, complete silence

I hope, wish, pray

That I would hear someone calling my name.

 

Hoping someone would be looking for me

Anyone that cares,

Or even cared about me

Wondering where I could be.

 

But yet just as I expected,

 I hear nothing

No voices, no sounds

Nothing, as if the whole world has disappeared

Left me here to fend for myself

 

I knew that no one cared

If someone did I would hear their voice

Calling my name

Out in the streets looking,

Worrying

 

Still hoping

But nothing

So what’s the point of hoping

Exactly there isn’t a point

So I stop…

 

 

Reviews

[Katie L]

i love this poem, keep writing

[WriterSki7]

A peom that shouts to be heard! C'mon people; get reviewing!
This was a nice peom. No patterened rhyme, no rhythm. Good flow and potent emotion none-the-less. A good Poem at least*