Sometimes I scream at the ceiling to see if anyone will hear me
Sometimes I punch the wall and throw chairs to see if my hands will bleed.
Sometimes I lock myself in my room and cry and wail but nobody comes knocking.
Sometimes I scratch at my skin to see if one day I turned into a ghost since I seemed to have disappeared.
Nobody will respond.
But when I scratch my skin it bleeds.
And when I punch walls the drywall cracks.
And when I cry my pillow soaks.
So I must still be here.
So the real question isn't: Am I still here?
The question is: Does anyone care?
When they hear my wails and see my tears and the blood drops why do they not run?
Why do they not hug me? Why do they not console me?
Has it been so long that they are waiting for this flickering light to finally go out?
For me to finally give out?
Does anyone care if I am still here?