What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

Stood here?
Gaped at them?
Been a spectator to
their eyes swelling up
after shedding gallons of tears?
Seen their bodies
wither away
like the happiness in their smile?
Watched their soul
shatter to pieces,
while they tried to fix it
again?

What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

Felt their cold hearts
turn colder?
Lent an ear to
hear their soul weeping?
Promised them
to be by their side,
always,
unlike their hopes and dreams,
which lay broken
on the ground?

Yes I did; I did
stretch out my arm
to clasp their
hands tighter
than their fears and
insecurities; I did
sing lullabies to hush their
anxieties to sleep; I did
stretch out my hand.

But how wrong I was;
I did not realise that–
they never needed the
sympathy I bestowed upon them,
all they needed was–
love.

What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

I'm tired of dreaming.
I'm through with trying.
Tired of living, yet scared of dying.
Maybe things are good for you,
but look at all that I've been through.
Look at all the pain I've won.
I bet you think that it's been fun.
You never thought I'd turn away.
You never believed you'd see this day.
Look again cuz here I go
leaving behind all I know.
Changing it all as I must do.
Not daring to stop and think things through.
Wanting to run as fast as I can,
not stopping until I understand.
Like why did I let things get this way?
Why didn't I leave yesterday?
How are things going to be,
since there is no more you and me.

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come