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SonicTheBB04Poems
I learned how to give before I ever learned how to ask. A little more patience. A little more understanding. A little more of myself each time someone reached out with empty hands. And I never questioned it. I poured kindness like water from a pitcher that everyone assumed would never run dry. I listened when no one else would. I stayed when others walked away. I carried burdens that were never mine simply because someone needed somewhere to set them down. And every time I told myself that eventually someone would notice. Eventually someone would say “You’ve given enough. Let me carry something for you.” But the strange thing about people who give without hesitation is that the world quickly learns to expect it. They begin to see you not as a person but as a resource. A quiet place to rest. A shoulder already waiting. A heart already open. And so the giving continues. And continues. And continues. Until one day you realize your hands are empty not because you had nothing but because you gave everything away. And when you finally pause. finally look around to see who might pour something back into you, the room is quiet. Because everyone was used to the well filling itself.
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Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 10:42 PM UTC
The Well that No One Refilled
I learned how to give before I ever learned how to ask. A little more patience. A little more understanding. A little more of myself each time someone reached out with empty hands. And I never questioned it. I poured kindness like water from a pitcher that everyone assumed would never run dry. I listened when no one else would. I stayed when others walked away. I carried burdens that were never mine simply because someone needed somewhere to set them down. And every time I told myself that eventually someone would notice. Eventually someone would say “You’ve given enough. Let me carry something for you.” But the strange thing about people who give without hesitation is that the world quickly learns to expect it. They begin to see you not as a person but as a resource. A quiet place to rest. A shoulder already waiting. A heart already open. And so the giving continues. And continues. And continues. Until one day you realize your hands are empty not because you had nothing but because you gave everything away. And when you finally pause. finally look around to see who might pour something back into you, the room is quiet. Because everyone was used to the well filling itself.
#depression#hope#sad#drained
Written by
SonicTheBB04
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 10:42 PM UTC
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