I am a revolving door
People crash into me
In tears they
ask me
to move.
People ignore
my dirty glass.
They never wipe
tears from my face.
I am a revolving door.
I hear all of their problems.
People come
and go and they don’t think
that I
have problems.
All I ever hear
is the sound
of my squeaking hinges,
wind in my face,
and tireless stories
about how
they hate themselves.
I am a revolving door.
They never see me
as a person.
Just a place to go through.
Just a face to go through.
Just a door to go through.
They have a phase to go through.
I am a revolving door.
The one that will always be there.
I do not move away.
I do not go away.
Their pain never goes away
from me.
I punish myself
and listen helplessly
And when they move on
I wait for them
to come back.
I am a revolving door
that they never see again.
that they forget.
I am a revolving door.
I do not move.
I am all that they go through.
They do not see
the rain against my face
because they are behind it
protected and hiding
from their fears
from the world.
I am their protector.
I hurt.
I feel.
I see.
I hear.
I am NOT a revolving door.
I am
Me.