confessions of a thinkaholic : poetry and prose

You can't help everyone.

With your ears, you hear them cry 'help',

With your eyes, you see them in pain,

With your hands, you hold theirs,

With your mouth, you utter words they want to hear.

    You help them. Or you try to.

They will come to you with glassy eyes,

You will wipe their cheeks until their tears run dry,

You'll say "it'll be alright" countless times,

You'll keep them in a friend's embrace through their long, long night.

    All I wanted was to ease your mind.

You will give your all to make them okay,

You'll be their light, their shelter, their shrink at times,

Every ounce of your being will go towards helping them,

You're reluctant to rest until they are okay.

    You will not get the same in return.

In return

They will not look into your glassy eyes,

They will not stay with you until the end of your night,

They will never be, nor see, what you were for them,

They will make you wonder why you ever tried.

You will go to them when you need some advice,

They may hear, but they may not listen,

They'll give you "maybe"s and "no"s and "I don't know"s,

But they'll leave you with just one thought:

    Why bother?

Once they've left you, you'll have to realise that

You are not a tower

Or a shrink

Or a helpline.

You are not Jesus

Or Superman

Or a miracle.

    You are a person.

You are a person and you are alive.

    And, boring as that sounds,

Alive is the most wonderful thing you could ever be.

    So start living.

Let go of the ones you held

Who never touched you in return.

Let go of the ones you comforted

Who never said a word in return.

Let go of the ones you listened to

Who never lent you their ears in return.

Let go of the ones you wanted to help

Who never even tried in return.

Let go, and start living;

You can't help everyone, and that is how it's meant to be.