Thank You Poem by Daniel Chapman

Not sure if I'm deserving of a thank you,
Not sure what words could ever be true.
A "thank you" here, a "thank you" there,
And yet inside, I feel stripped bare.

Please, don't thank me—because I'm not happy here,
Even while I smile, even while I appear
Calm and collected, steady, composed,
Inside, there's a storm that nobody knows.

I'm not trying to be cold, not trying to be mean,
Just a little confused by what's in between.
The gratitude I hear, the praise I receive,
It doesn't always match what I believe.

Sometimes I wonder if my efforts are enough,
If I'm seen for who I am when the world gets tough.
I give, I care, I try to stand tall,
But sometimes I feel invisible through it all.

So when you say "thank you, " please understand,
I'm not rejecting your words—they touch me, they land.
But inside, I wrestle with feelings I can't show,
A quiet ache, a longing, a sorrow you'll never know.

If you think I take it lightly, please don't be amused,
This is not a joke, no humor to be used.
I treasure your gratitude, it warms me in part,
But it cannot fill the quiet hollows of my heart.

I hope one day I can feel what I give,
Not just for others, but in the life I live.
Until then, know that I see your care,
Even if my own happiness feels so rare.