What About Me Poem by David Self

The world keeps turning, loud and fast,
Chasing futures, outrunning the past.
Everyone's shouting what needs to be done,
Pointing to battles that must be won.
There's talk of nations, markets, and war,
Of changing the world, of wanting more.
But standing here in the middle of the noise,
I can barely hear my own small voice.
What about me?
The dreams I hide,
The wounds I carry deep inside.
The roads I lost, the fears I see,
When everyone asks about everything—
What about me?
I watch the crowds rush by each day,
All of us searching in our own way.
Maybe beneath every grand debate,
Every headline, every twist of fate,
There's someone wondering if they're enough,
If they'll make it through when life gets rough.
Someone smiling while quietly asking,
'Who notices the weight I'm masking? '
What about me?
Not out of pride,
Not because the world should step aside.
Just a simple plea to be seen,
To know my life means something in between
The chaos and the certainty.
And maybe that's the truth we miss:
The world is built from moments like this.
Not only from history's grand decree,
But from every person asking quietly,
'What about me? '
And hoping the answer comes back:
'You matter too.'