Too good for her own good
My friend is a blooming rose,
Radiating warmth and kindness all around.
She keeps forgetting, over and over,
Like a broken vinyl record,
Not everyone is as soft and tender as her.
She doesn’t see people for who they are
But for who they could become.
She gives away pieces of herself, over and over,
Like a song stuck on repeat.
How can one be so good,
Yet endure so much bad?
Giving and giving,
Until there’s nothing left for herself.
Until her well becomes empty,
And her own needs forgotten.
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