i am the pile of dishes that keep piling up,
a stack people are discouraged to clean by the mere glance of;

i am the smile that fades soon after
a passing acquaintance greets cheerily;

i am the tears that refuse to be shed,
the salty droplets indicating weakness;

i am the small wound,
too thin to cause scars but still enough to bleed;

i am the song to listen to,
when feeling sad and alone:
not a remedy, only an aid