In the form of a basic poem, I do write
Asking all whom this do read,
To take a small moment to type,
A specific message to me.

I ask that in this note you send
You tell me what troubles you.
For don't despair, it's not the end,
I truly care for each of you.

I care for the depressed teen,
Contemplating "doing it."
I reach out to the drama queen,
Who just wants to quit.

I care for the "mighty ****"
Who goes home and sobs in the pillow.
I see the one whom all do mock,
And who's confidence is shallow.

I care for the single father,
Who just lost his job.
I hear the cries of his daughter,
Who just wants her daddy.

I've seen you all for far too long,
Without letting you know
I'm here! I care! They're wrong!

There is someone out there
Who'll listen! Who'll comfort!
Trust me, I see your tears!
And my arms are open.

Talk to me, if just to vent at the world
And I'll respond to your anguish.
I may not be able to take away all the pain,
But I can bear some of its weight for you.

My. Arms. Are. Open.

I wake up drenched in sweat.
A nightmare haunts my mind.
I just saw every one of my fears,
Flash right before my eyes.

I watched as I wasn't there to fight for and protect you.
I listened to your screams as I couldn't comfort you.
I wept as I saw myself turning my back on you.
And my heart broke as you moved on without me.

I woke up, with great terror in my heart.
I vowed that these nightmares would never be.
I swore that nothing would ever tear us apart.
And that you'd never have anything to fear from me.

Look into my eyes.
You should be drowning
In the seas of compassion and love.

Look into my eyes.
You should be burning
From the intense warmth of my affection.

Look into my eyes.
You should feel overwhelmed
By the strength of my resolve.

To love you.
To protect you.
To never leave you.

My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
"My hand's covered with scars," she said.
My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
"My hand is attached to baggage," she said.
My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
"You'll just take your hand away when I'm near," she said.
My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
"You'll judge what you'll see," she said.
My hand reached out, ready to take hers.
And she took it. My hand grasped with her's;
Firm, and yet gentle.
And I'll never let go.

"It hurt," she said through confused tears.
I didn't know I had opened a hidden fear.
By me saying that the scars didn't bother me,
There was something further that she didn't see.
It bothered me so much that she went to a knife for comfort, while I was so near. It bothered me that she told me her struggles, only after she shed tears. It bothered me that she felt so alone. But it didn't **** me. I won't let it. Because I know that there is not scar that can't be healed by the right hand. There is no wound that can't be sewn shut with the right care. And I know that there is nothing she alone should have to bear. For I am, and will always be right here.