compassion is a weakness

 I just wanted to mean something. 
Come into their lives as a flicker of happiness, 

maybe hope: 

don't die, life is worth living. 

If I could make them feel alive, I would feel alive too, 

so that's a selfish purpose. So I am selfish. 

So what?

The good deeds don't mean much, 

when your own don't believe it. So why will you?

You're not good. This is the truth. 

I drew, wrote, immortalized them, 

so what? They don't want to be kept alive by me. 

They don't want me. 

You don't mean anything to them. 

They don't understand you. 

Because they don't want to. 

It's not your fault. 

It's not my fault. Compassion is a weakness. 

I'm weak. So

what?

What now?

I should go.