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How can one story
Be so tragic
Taking turns for the worst
At every fork
Never having a happy ending
Other than small trifles
Not enough to correct the fault
Of the road that is taken
How many of these silent fighters do we see a day
How many walk past us smiling
How many are breaking from the inside out
How many
How many
How many
Why do we shun them
Why do we accept their charade when we see the truth
Why
It’s not right of us
So why
Because we want to believe
That we are the victims
But they are the victims
The silent fighters
Shedding silent tears
Fighting silent battles
Saving us with their silent souls
They need us
But we think we need them
And the endless cycle stretched beyond
Again and again