Bad poetry I wrote as a teenager, Volume XXV

Y'all, I was so ready to post some Desert Storm poetry, but I can't find the yellow notebook. Next week, hopefully. I no longer have any shame when it comes to the crap I'll post for you. You might even get some Kurt Cobain in coming weeks.

Anyway, this. I don't know who I wrote it about, or why, or what it even means exactly. In fact, as I read through it today I was like, "huh?" I hope you have the same reaction. I also don't understand what I was trying to do with capitalization and punctuation. I changed it halfway through, and it can't be an accident because I was VERY particular about that stuff.

Oh, and if anyone was weirded out by the last installment, don't be. I was a morbid drama queen. You can't take me seriously, really.

Stand on top of the highest mountain and
call my name
I'll hear the echo of your voice from down below
loud at first, then
fading
I'll wonder if you said it once or
twice or
even three times.
And when I answer, the wind and
the trees will
steal my voice.
Search for me with outstretched arms and
I'll see you
Larger than life.
When you put your hand to your brow to
block the sun
I'll mingle with the scenery
Antlike, invisible
Then climb off your mountain on
the other side
No echoes in the air
Because we both know
I'll never climb that high.