I sometimes I feel like
people see me as a well.
deep.
endless.
overflowing.
a place they can lower their hands
and drink without asking.
I let them.
I always have
and that may be
my greatest flaw.
they call me strong.
steady.
generous.
a good friend.
but alone
I watch the waterline drop
and wonder when
I stopped checking it.
I turn my kindness
into a wound.
my empathy
into a drain.
they picture me
at the mountaintop
sun at my back
free.
not the version of me
clinging to a single thread
and praying it doesn’t snap.
how can I fill others
when my bucket
hits bottom
and echoes hollow?
----K. Rowan, 24/11/2025
Theme : Love, Others -- Sacrifice