Som’times t’is difficult to breathe as a giver

In a world full of takers most.

Nobod’ seems to see the sacrifices you make,

But quick to jump on your flaws.

The givers never seen to be in need, yet need the most to continue giving.

Serve, serve, serve, yet it’s never enough.

Som’times it feels the sweet relief of death can’t come quick enough

The finality of it all being over seems a juicy option, but….

There’s more that are genuinely in need that he’s not touched,

More that needs a lifting that we’ve not lifted,

More that can be shown the light that they’ve not seen.

It’s a dreadful toil, but the path must be trodden so others can find the way to the light.

IT’S THE GIVER’S CURSE

The balance between pain of being taken advantage of and the joy of leading one genuinely in need out of darkness.

I choose to focus on the joy but it’s not without its drawbacks.

The Giver’s Curse….. my sweet misery