Change
Crying, alone, and forgotten,
Abandoned by all the world,
A little voice inside me screamed,
But I ignored the call,
Another minute or year went by,
I find it hard to tell,
I knew that I had to escape,
I could not pay their laughter's toll,
The little voice again, spoke up,
But this time spoke in rhyme,
I listened and I wrote it down,
And thought it sounded fine,
Now, when time flows sweet and softly,
or engulfs me in a stream,
Tears to me seem only folly,
I, instead, write words that sing,
This poem is about:
Me