When will you call?
When my body is cold in the ground,
or as I take my last breath?

It's dark and lonely in this place,
my thoughts shout and echo
whisper and sneer,
you're a burden
no one wants you here.

When will you call?
I have a knife in my hand,
the end is near.

I see the social media posts,
telling me you are there,
but a  phone call away,
you are waiting for me
to call in for tea.

When will you call?
you say you love me,
but I don't believe you.

I will not call you,
I cannot call anyone,
for this depression,
the darkness, the blackness
that holds me captive

will not allow me that solace,
it tells me over and over
that I am not good enough
not worthy of your love
of time in your busy life.

When will you call?
Knock on my door? 
Do you know it could save me?