The weight I carry, unseen by eye, A constant pressure, a silent sigh. A fear of draining, a well run dry, Makes me question if I bring them joy.
Their gentle patience, a whispered grace, But doubt lingers, etched on my face. Is my presence unwanted, a misplaced space? Do they yearn for distance, a lighter pace?
The weight I carry, I long to release, To find my strength, find inner peace. To be a giver, to bring them ease, And know my presence brings them appease.
