Ten short lines, a title that is only a row of asterisks, and a name, "victor", with nothing else attached. There is no context to lean on here, so everything depends on the words, and the words are blunt. "I want to hide. / I want to die." The two opening lines have the same shape and nearly the same sound, as if the second wish were the first pushed to its limit.
The poem is about loneliness so complete that it ends up turning inward. The speaker cries "every night" and no one "hears or comes in sight." Yet there is a tension at the heart of it. Someone who truly wanted to vanish would not mind that nobody comes, but this speaker minds very much. The wish to hide and the wish to be found sit side by side, and the poem never settles between them. Sight is its quiet obsession: "hide," "in sight," "see." Everything hinges on who is looked at and who looks away.
The word "try" is also left hanging. "No one will be there when I try" never says what is being tried, whether dying, speaking out, or asking for help. The gap lets the reader supply the answer, and every possible answer is painful.
The sound of the poem shows how stuck the speaker feels. Almost every line in the first half leans on the same long "i": hide, die, try, cry, night, sight. It is also the sound of the word "I," so the speaker's own voice keeps ringing back from every line ending, and there is no way out of the echo. The rhyme is tight and bouncy, close to a nursery rhyme, and that jarring contrast with the subject makes the poem feel like a thought going round and round rather than a calm statement.
The punctuation tells a similar story. Lines 6 to 8 are one sentence: "I might forget that all the people that I met are just too selfish to see." But full stops cut it into pieces: "forget. / That all the people that I met. / Are just too selfish too see." Whether this is deliberate or simply how the poem was written, the effect is of a voice that cannot get through a thought without stopping. The doubled "too" (the second is probably a slip for "to") adds a small stammer.
The ending is where the poem turns. Until line 8 the blame falls outward, on people who are "selfish" and who fail to notice. Then the pronouns shift. The poem opens on "I" as the one who wants, and it closes on "me" as the one acted upon. "The very thing killing me" sounds like an illness or an intruder, something outside, and the answer arrives alone on a two-syllable line: "Is me." After lines of seven, eight and nine syllables, the poem runs out of breath. Notice too that "see" and "me" rhyme, so the sound connects being seen with the self. The thing others are too selfish to see turns out to be the speaker, and the speaker has already turned on themselves. Anger at others becomes self-blame within a single sentence, and the poem does not explain or resolve it.
What gives the poem weight is its plainness. There are no elaborate metaphors and no decoration, only short words like "cry," "hide," "die," and "me." It also admits contradiction honestly. The speaker blames others and blames themselves in the same breath, wants to disappear and wants someone to come. Real feelings are often as tangled as that, and a polished poem might have smoothed it away. For a reader, it shows how a few simple words, carefully ordered, can carry a lot of pain. Poems like this should be read seriously, as the sound of someone hurting. Anyone who recognises these feelings in themselves should tell a trusted adult, a teacher or a helpline, because the person in the poem says nobody came, and in real life someone can.