You read my poem and ask,
“Is everything okay?
There’s anything I can do?
You just have to say.
Why don’t you call me?
You think I don’t care?
You know, right, for you
I’ll always be there?”

I know you mean well,
I know you want to help,
But do you have time
Even for yourself?
You think I don’t know
That you are no hermit?
‘Cause every time we talk
You seem to reaffirm it.
You tell me there’s always
Some deadline, some meeting
Suggesting how your leisure
Is short and fleeting.
You’re always buried neck-deep
In your own worries
So, how’ll you be present
To listen to my stories?
And even if you can,
Somehow if you try,
Would you have the patience
To listen to me cry
For hours and hours
Not knowing what to say?
Helpless not knowing
How to make it go away?
And say you can once,
And say you can twice,
But how long will it be
Before you realise
That this is periodic,
That it keeps coming back,
That you can’t be sure
When I’ll get the next attack?

So, when I tell you this,
You’ve just got to trust me:
I can’t let another
Disappointment crush me.
I’d rather be alone when
My voices beat their drum
It’s my trial to face,
Only mine to overcome.