I am not strong.
I cannot lift or push or carry weight.
Yet I’ve one muscle where all my strength is placed.
I profusely pump blood to all but myself.
Free transfusion! Are you in need of help?
It hasn’t a cost, and there’s no line to sit.
All that I ask for is, conversational wit.

Tell me your sorrows and what I can bare,
Keep not a thing to me unawares,
Your baggage is mine.
Your burdens my pleasure.
Our eternal connection is my treasure.

Yes, I’ve a big heart.
However, with much responsibility, it falls apart.
Too many connected to siphon my soul.
What is left for me to own?
Sad and drained I sit on the mantle.
Small and wrecked,
No assistance lent to handle.