I’m in the vast desert,

calling for help every chance I get,

but nobody can hear you when you’re in the desert.

 

I’m nearly dying from the heat,

dehydrated,

and I have no water.

 

“It should be easy to get water, though.

The cacti I see do not have thorns. 

You can get water from there,” 

They say.

 

Do you not see that the cacti in my desert have pricks,

that they hurt when I try to obtain water?

 

Do you not see that if I could obtain water from them,

I would?

 

Do you not hear me cry for help?

 

Nevermind.

They don’t understand.

They don’t see the cacti the way I do,

they’re not in the same desert I am.

 

If I told them about my cacti,

they would never believe me.

They would shrug it off and leave me,

dehydrated and overheated.