Busy helping people pick up their shards That I've even forgotten my pieces still Linger on the floor, some too shattered To be picked. I'm busy trying to shine some light along their path Forgetting the beam seldom gives as much light To the person holding the torch of inspiration I'm so caught up cleaning up other people's mess That even when mine stinks I think It's just the remnant of theirs I'm so ******* helping them deal with their demons Probably because I fear facing my own monster With a heavy log in my eye but I only see the specks in theirs I'm the life guard of their swim across the ocean of despair But my anchor is sinking me deeper and deeper I'm teaching many the basics of combat in life Yet life is the one battlefield I have failed to fight on I guess I'm worse than them who seek for healing For they are unlike me brave enough to realize they need a therapy