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To the Lost Ones

This one goes out to everyone who lives
Their life observing lives other than theirs,
Shoulders heavy from support they give
Kerchief soaked with other people’s tears,
The ones whose diaries are almost bursting
with tales of which they do not stand as star.
Their heartbeats drowned by other people’s thirsting
To suck their life, ignoring all their scars.
Those under-loved and over-criticized,
Could write whole tomes on what they have observed.
Expected to see clear, others surmise
Their sacrifice: their needs remain unserved.
When mirrors act as windows through the soul,
The lost are diamonds pressed from lowly coal.
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