In the quiet corners of my dying soul,
I harbor words unsaid, a hidden toll.
For their happiness, I swallow my cries,
A sacrifice made beneath silent skies.

I wear a cloak of understanding grace,
Yet they scold me, blind to my inner space.
"Heartless," they label me, unaware,
Of the tempests raging, the burdens I bear.

I'd give my breath, my very pulse,
To shield them from storms, to soften the jolts.
Yet they call me heartless, a cruel refrain,
Unaware of the love that fuels my pain.

Who will...