When you tell me your troubles
I feel I have to fix them.
That is my job, my reason to be.

I know you do not want that.
You need me to listen,
that is all.
So I listen.
But under the surface I am searching for solutions.

This ties my mind in knots I cannot unpick and I despair.

Telling you this will just add to your problems, the opposite of fixing them.

So who do I tell?
I am stuck. *******.
Shouldering problems, unable to fix them, unable to talk about them for fear of creating more.

Sometimes I worry I cannot hold them all.
But I worry more that if you know this,
you won't tell me your troubles,
and I won't be able to fix them.