My Poetry. Does anybody Care?

The clock ticks down in the quiet hall
Where shadows stretch across the wall.
A heavy heart, a weary mind
And answers that are hard to find.

We walk through crowds of passing faces,
Lost in a sea of nameless places,
Each carrying a silent load,
Along a dark and winding road.

When troubles rise and spirits break,
And every breath’s a chore to take,
A voice whispers inside the air,
Asking softly, “Does anyone care?”

Does anyone see the tear unshed?
The thoughts that loop inside the head?
The struggle fought behind closed doors,
When life feels like a endless war?

Yet in the dark, a small light gleams,
A thread of hope, a spark of dreams.
For even when the world feels cold,
There are warm hands for us to hold.

A quiet word, a gentle touch,
Can mean so very, very much.
So if you ask into the night,
Looking for a ray of light—

Know that your story matters still,
Through every valley, over every hill.
In every heart that’s learned to share,
The answer comes: Yes, people care.