Why do I still expect?
When I know they will not notice,
When I know they won’t care.
~~~~~~
Why do I still help?
When I know they will forget it,
When I know they will toss me away like paper,
Like it’s not needed anymore.
~~~~~~~
Why do they use me?
Like some sort of paper,
When done just throw it away,
Like used paper.
~~~~~~~
Why do I still hope?
That they will one day see my worth, my value,
Or that’s just my wish.
~~~~~~~
What am I really?
A paper?
A glass?
Or a ladder for them to climb up?
No,
I’m much more than that,
And I know it.
About the Creator
SRenaS
Writing is one of my many hobbies. I love writing stories whether it is fiction or horror, everything is written from the top of my imagination. I occasionally write on other communities and topics aswell.
Inshallah
Istanbul is a city bristling with life, a place where past and present, sacred and profane, intertwine under the watchful gaze of the Sultan Ahmet Mosque. As I explore this crossroads of cultures with Maya, my nine-year-old niece and the daughter of my late brother-in-law Frank, and my wife Nadia, Frank's sister, I find myself on a journey not just through Istanbul's history, but also into the depths of my own beliefs. Staying with Maya and her mother Elvan, my sister-in-law, I begin to see the city anew through their eyes, and to understand why James Baldwin said it "revived" him.
By Geoffrey Philp 7 days ago in Wander
Comments (2)
This was so relatable and very similar in content with my latest poem. I loved this!
I can relate to the feeling of this poem. It's like being treated as a fast-food chain like McDonald's while the people around us feel like gourmet restaurants, even though we know we're just as good.