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.