I tried. Maybe that is what will be put between the years on my gravestone.
I prayed. I wrestled. I battled, but it wasn’t enough.
I was never enough.
I cried. Nobody came.
I waited. Nobody called.
I spoke. Nobody heard.

Now giving it one final chance,
I scream into the vast dark void until I can finally soak in the reverberated beats of sound,
the waves of an old friend in the echoes of time.
I hold onto them like the wind,
cupping my hands through the substance,
trying to do the impossible and capture them
for safe keeping, but the repeating voice
dissipates like mist.

As the moment passes like it always does,
I’m left with the truth of emptiness once again,
the reality that stings like poison in my gut.
It wasn’t that nobody heard
and nobody saw me pining for life on the cliff.

It’s that I finally arrived to the pinnacle
of where they wanted me to be all along
where my end would be like my birth,
the celebration of a life nobody wanted.