To yearn for comfort
In your grievous heart,
Blighted by traumas
Which tore it apart,

You aim to consult
These friends from afar,
Not realizing
They won't mend these scars

If they're miles away
From the very source
Of these ghastly wounds
Causing the discourse

Amidst those that claim
To offer support,
Yet witness your pain,
But give help of no sort.

You're left all alone,
Not a soul nearby
To muffle your moans
Or soften your cries.

Your heart's turned to stone,
Though love's what you sought.
There's ice in your bones;
Your soul's left to rot.