Creative Writing


Abandoned here, there, everywhere

Nowhere to run, no place to hide

Here’s a place to go with no light

And still there was her resilient cry.


Neglected, numbed, and thought to be nobody

Left like a tombstone to be somebody

The body drained with the bottle

And still there was his resistant cry.


Forgotten by the city, the country, the world

Everyone thinks they know what’s going on

But they don’t know that they are wrong

And still there was their repeated cry.


2 thoughts on “Cries

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