Lost

People.

All around me.

I sit,

Watch.

Observing their movements,

Their decisions.

Voices.

Loud.

They scream at me,

Laugh at me,

Beg me,

To help them.

But I can’t.

Because I am on the outside;

I cannot be accepted in.

Anger.

Rising.

Because I cannot help them.

If they were to come outside,

To leave their self-absorbed world,

Then,

I could help them.

Then,

They would know the truth.

But until they do,

They are lost.