You Don't Give Me Comments.

You Don’t Give Me Comments.

I stuck it out when I bled for all the pieces of me
That I gave away.
I thought that I was wrong and there was no place
In your repartee.
You don’t give me comments, you hardly speak
To me at all.
At the end of the day I wonder whether I am
Here at all.
I won’t sing you love songs, nor beg for a place
In the exalted halls,
Of those that somehow meet the criteria, the damn
Blasted slices.
The churned-up dreams that you cast aside for all
The wrong reasons.
Who are you to say – this is right –you must only
Write this way.
Or feel and express the bloodied water of tears taken
From chopped nipples?
Milk me then for every word I write and pray that
I don’t make it some day.
I will scream each word out loud and I will say
I found my feet
Not from anyone that ever encouraged me, rather that
I made it despite
Each wound that cut me to the bone and made me
Stronger, harder.

You don’t give me comments, though I played the game
Now turn out
The lights and tell yourself it doesn’t matter, just one pathetic
Person, lost to you.