When You Were

When you were here

I did not hear you

I did not listen to you

You were just you

When you were gone

I could not miss you

I could not think of you

You were too you

When you were dead

I could not look at you

I did not want to

You were not you

Nobody Came

Nobody came

Nobody saw

Nobody heard my mousey roar

Nobody laughed

Nobody cried

Nobody even bloody tried

Nobody looked

Nobody searched

Nobody found these petty works

Nobody cares

Nobody likes

Nobody, no one. Why do I try?

Nobody Even Looks

Some days you wonder why you bother.

You sit and you search and you find them,

these unwilling words, you creep up on them

gathered there, unaware, lettering your

head, an alphabet soup of nonsense,

you catch them and you string them together,

cage them forever in the prison of the page,

juggle them up and down, muddle them around,

worry over them, care for and caress them,

make them into something by you, from you,

of you.

And nobody sees them.

Nobody finds them.

Nobody even looks for them,

these highly strung and overwrought,

overblown and overthought words of yours,

because they are hidden by millions,

squillions, quadrillions and gazillions

of other words, by other writers,

who seem to know better than you,

to know the right things to write,

every one of which seems to be

SEO much easier to find

than yours.

Some days you wonder why you bother.