I shared with someone I cared.
And immediately I was told,
My caring was obsolete.
I was told I didn't have to.
I knew then my mind was ill spent.
I didn't have to take it back.
I just let it fade away.
I knew where my caring came from.
They believed it could be salvaged.
As if it could be traded for something better.
Like an upgrade.
Of course they had no idea the power of prayer.
And that's where my caring for them had meant.
But some folks wish not to be that connected.
And who am I to argue with that kind of ego?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem