A Crying Call.

Written by Rebekah O Reilly |

If it’s money that’s you splunder,

then you really make me wonder,

Is it friends we are at all?

Or am I just a crying call

for a memory to hold

for your fear of the unknown.


For the ones you claim as mates,

Like trophies in a case

cared for recklessly at your disposal,

care no longer for your reproposal.


A dear friend needs your ear,

Perhaps two arms to hold then near,

But not pictures in frames 

Or guilt trips and games.


Give to me your respect,

and I vow to honor it.

For then I shall know that the promises,

and the pleas for forgiveness,

mean more than just bullshit.

Copyright © TravelDailyLife.com

Form of Poetry

I do not know?

Author: Rebekah O Reilly
My name is Rebekah O’Reilly, and I’m 16 years old. I have been passionate about English for as long as I remember, and hope to someday become a journalist, or a poet, or an English teacher....but for now you can find me here on WriterlyWords.


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