Curse of the one who cares
I starve to be seen—
not as a sword used to slaughter,
but as steel,
forged through hardship,
blood, sweat, and tears.
They come and go whenever they want.
They take, take, take,
and give so little.
Your care—
that is all I want.
To be seen—
that is all I want.
Who cleans the ships
that carry others to distant shores?
Who lifts your luggage
without hesitation?
If only I could meet
a reflection of myself.
Would this loneliness end?
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
To care,yet feel unseen.
To care for someone
who leaves,
then returns only when they need your help.
To care for someone
who gives no time to you,
even in their moments of freedom.
To care,
knowing you are no one
to someone
who is gold to you.
I have given my all.
I have tried my best.
I healed you,
comforted you,
mended you.
You can walk now.
But I can't,
for I gave my legs to you.
So I will remain here,
and slowly rot
until death.
