Forgotten

I remember a time when I wasn’t always forgotten,
                When everyone always liked my presence and was wanted.
I only get talked to when people now are in something of need,
                I’d still give them everything to them even if I bleed.
Alcohol and poems aren’t cutting it anymore,
                I’ve thought about being 6ft under the floor.
I can’t do that because they say they would cry,
                 But I only look at this world now.. and ask “why?”