Stubborn as We Are

           Here is one more poem that was written by me, when I was 21. It was never shown to anyone, so you appear to be the first listener or reader it's better to say. It still has no name, but I call it usually "Stubborn". The name has come to me with the idea of people who are stubborn enough to acknowledge their own fault.
  
“Help is needed!”, they cry in despair,
And they cover the heads with the hands.
Throwing promises up to the air,
Holy listeners hide in the sands.
Neither signs, nor the evident warnings
Make the listeners simply respond,
Make them keep their white-livered promise –
Still indifferent stays all beau-monde.
 
Sincerely,
Sam