Crisis? Poem by Phil Soar

Can you call it a crisis when someone old becomes burdensome?
Never meaning to cause dismay, they endlessly endure anguish

Nothing has changed for them, only the years
Nothing has changed for you, only the tears

You cannot harness the pain, or influence it
Take it away, or share it, just suffer it

Eventually hoping that you don't suffer it too
And you sit and watch it's effect, increasing the anguish

Trying to recover your level of insanity, you spend time away
Only to return to find yet more broken pieces

You tend to shut yourself off, watch from a distance
The strain taking it's toll of both them and you

Days, months, years, calendars with more notes
Memories now beginning to resemble pain, not happiness

You feel incomplete, and your future has no end
Except for their passing, which saddens you

Can you call it a crisis?