Frustration

I come but every day,
to see if I may
find a way
to make sense of the wave of choices
I am given - to take.
Given? and yet refused.
Come they say, if you have questions to ask,
and yet then I arrive
time after time
they become shorter and shorter with me.
I do not know everything,
But do I know anything?
Must I try so hard,
only to find the door eventually barred
from me
by those who once offered help?
The boy who cried wold had it easier than I
for his first calls were false where mine are true.
At least he, I imagine,
when he found himself clutched in the wolfs claws
must have regretted his falsehoods.
What have I to regret?
I call the wolf at every turn,
and now those villager's, I find, unwilling.
Unwilling to continuously save me,
though I have not the weapons to defend myself.
I fear,
that if I cannot charm the wolf, I will be devoured.
Do they care? I come but every day
to see if I may
find a way
to receive what I was given - to take.