Poets logo

11:11

Make a Wish

By Emily SierraPublished 4 years ago 2 min read
Like
11:11
Photo by Javier Martinez on Unsplash

When the time changes, the wishes come.

They flow from minds everywhere,

Some by choice, some unconscious.

Some simple, some profound.

I wish my parents understood me,

Sighs the girl who sits curled up in her windowsill,

Looking out at the stars. Her ears are filled

With music playing just loud enough

To drown out the argument happening

A floor below.

I wish I was better at math,

Cries the boy who rests his head in his palms,

Staring bleary-eyed at the blank page

Lying before him. He's failed one too many times

And he's desperate for some respite

From the problems staring him in the face.

I wish I had talents,

Dreams the teen who stands in an empty studio,

Repeating the same move over and over again.

They've been trying for years

To find something they're good at, something they love,

But all they seem to be good at

Is being bad at everything.

I wish I had a best friend,

Thinks the young woman as her neighbor wraps his arms

Around the last of several departing guests.

Her house is cold and empty at this hour

And she longs for the warmth and light everyone around her

Seems to enjoy far into the night.

I wish I could get more sleep,

Groans the man as he shuffles down the hall

Without even bothering to turn on the lights.

The cries of his infant daughter are deafening

At this time of night

And all he wants is some peace and quiet for a change.

I wish I wasn't so weird,

Says the outcast as they shy away from the stranger

Who points and stares without bothering to hide her shock.

They're tired of being noticed, tired of hearing

The muffled laughter behind their back

That's just as bad as the whispered insults.

I wish, I wish, I wish, chorus the masses,

Each with their own lives and their own problems

But all seeking together the sliver of hope that shines

In the middle of the night beneath the moon.

When their heads rest on pillows and their eyes slip closed,

Their wishes fly away on the wings of time,

Forgotten by those who asked but remembered forever

By those who listened.

There's always someone listening to the wishes,

Collecting them one by one and waiting for the day

When they'll have the chance to make someone's wish

Come true.

sad poetry
Like

About the Creator

Emily Sierra

Moving forward one word at a time.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.