What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

Stood here?
Gaped at them?
Been a spectator to
their eyes swelling up
after shedding gallons of tears?
Seen their bodies
wither away
like the happiness in their smile?
Watched their soul
shatter to pieces,
while they tried to fix it
again?

What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

Felt their cold hearts
turn colder?
Lent an ear to
hear their soul weeping?
Promised them
to be by their side,
always,
unlike their hopes and dreams,
which lay broken
on the ground?

Yes I did; I did
stretch out my arm
to clasp their
hands tighter
than their fears and
insecurities; I did
sing lullabies to hush their
anxieties to sleep; I did
stretch out my hand.

But how wrong I was;
I did not realise that–
they never needed the
sympathy I bestowed upon them,
all they needed was–
love.

What have I done to help those bleeding souls?