She helps those who fall in puddles,
Yet she herself is drowning;
She nurtures those with little scratches,
Taking no heed to her gaping lesions;
She builds with those whose roofs are leaking,
While she stands homeless in the storm;
She throws a cushion under those who have tripped,
As she falls from the top floor of a skyscraper.
One of these days, she will die
And no one will understand why.
This poem is dedicated to a very certain somebody.
I believe she knows who she is.