People Who Don’t Care
By John Herlihy
I spend most of my days with people who don’t care;
They look right at me, through me, as if I weren’t there.
You would think the day was created for them alone;
They go about their business and never have to atone.
They use me, abuse me, they leave me high and dry;
Let them, they would suck the living blue from the sky.
Where do they come from, who gives them the right;
As if nothing mattered but what they find in their sight.
Even their emotions seem as a form of calculated risk;
Their love, concern, interest only feels like being frisked.
If people abuse them, ignore them, tell them what for;
The accusers find themselves cast aside, just as before.
Let me spend a day with someone, anyone, who does care;
To leave me feeling I mattered, and not the worse for wear.
- - - - - -
(c) John Herlihy December 2018
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Love ya!
Jane
Ron
Your poem gives me a train of thoughts. I find now that we sometimes only think we know somebody and treat that somebody as a good friend, but in reality we really don't know them well enough to expect anything from them.
Sandie
Season's blessings to you