Un-

Sitting on the branch,
blown by the wind.
To the left
and to the right
I shake.

I cling onto the branch
so tight.
My hands bleed.
But not once
did anyone look up.

Me
unnoticed.
My cry
unheard.

The branch still swaying
the tree remains
rooted.
The wind still blows
unrelentlessly.
I remain up there
unseen
undetected
uncared.