How could they ever know
They call me art, but depth has it's hidden meanings
I have cried my call for years
And alas am welcomed by no helping hands
The only hands I have ever known
Have tortured my heart in ways I can not mend
Oh, God, am I done for?
Please, somebody help me.
I see children pass my face
Only boredom recompenses
I see men and women
Ignoring all common senses
Am I to scream here, day by day
And never be alerted to any guidance?
Dear God, help me!
For I am truly done for in this world they call art.
http://www.edvard-munch.com/Paintings/anxiety/scream_3.jpg
A contest entry
- Options Galore! by Everlasting Ellen.
822 points, ended February 22, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
A deep poem full of questions and a deep well of emotions
Well done, and welll said.
Thank you for entering my contest and good luck. 
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