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?