Their sighs, I hear
Their regrets, I listen
Their sorrows, I listen
Their souls, lost & forsaken
Their cries, I hear
Their heartbreaks, I listen
Their despair, I listen
Their lives, aching & mistaken
But who listens to me?
Who sees my pain?
Who hears my heart?
I am lost, in a world so vain.
My tears, they fall
My fears, they rise
My heart, it breaks
My soul, it dies
I listen to their troubles
But who will hear mine?
I am drowning in my sorrows
With no hope for a lifeline
I listen, I listen, I listen
But who will listen to me?
I am lost in a world so cold
With no one to set me free.
- The Whisperer
About the Creator
The Whisperer
I'm just a woman who loves to write, the things I bottle up inside.
Keep reading
More stories from The Whisperer and writers in Poets and other communities.
Poetry
What do you think poetry is? Is it the arrangement of words that sound nice together or is it something more profound? I think that poetry is a paradoxical form of art. It can be read by millions of people but only a few seem to truly grasp its meaning. Perhaps that is the beauty of poetry, the way it can hint at something much deeper than what is explicitly stated. The way it leaves room for interpretation. It is as if poetry is a mirror that reflects not only the poet's emotions but also the reader's.
By The Whisperer3 years ago in Poets
The CEO of Everything
They say "jack of all trades, master of none," but they forgot to mention the part where the jack of all trades is also the camera woman, the makeup artist, and the person currently yelling at a tangled Wii microphone cable in a her own bathroom while recording herself singing and trying to make it look realistic and professional. (As professional as you can make it with nothing but a cell phone camera and a mic that doesn't work)
By Sara Wilson6 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.