When the heart is in anguish
so few people matter.
We are all consumed by flames
which can only be quelled
by the delicate touch
of another.
But it only matters who
not how.
As long as they try,
we can come up with an infinite amount
of justifications
to excuse ourselves of our sadness.
But think of those who try
and do not a thing for our sorrow.
They are the ones who write poems
about anguish in their hearts.