Apathy

They saw me.

I know they did

Because I saw them

As they averted their gaze

And slowly, deliberately

Walked away.

They turned and left me;

Bloodied, bruised,

Slowly dying

In some forgotten alley.

I cried, I moaned for help.

And I know they heard.

I know they heard by how

They would put up their hoods

To cover their ears

And raise their voices

To drown out the world.

I would crawl past their feet

Through the dirt and cold

And grab at their legs,

Begging, praying

For just a little change.

And they felt it.

I know they felt it

As they tugged and tripped,

Pretending not to notice.

And then one day,

I gave up.

I gave up and died.

And everybody knew.

I know that they knew

Because as I began to die,

I looked into their eyes,

I wailed in their ears,

I held onto them

With what little strength

That still remained.

And each and every one

Chose to leave me

In the pouring rain,

So they could return

To the comforts of

Their homes

And dry off

By the fireplace.

And I sat outside

And watched their apathy

As the sweet embrace of death

Slowly but surely

Washed over me.