Patience

I can't help you anymore.
My skills are limited.
I've listened time and time
again to your troubles,
but I have no answers, no
clue as to how to ease
your burdens, get you on
the right track. I could
steer you towards prayer,
or a self-help guru with
a shelf full of books to
read and ponder, or I could
suggest meditation, yoga,
or exercise to clear your
brain, settle your soul.
Perhaps a therapist who
deals in such matters is
best. For this goes much
deeper than what I'm
capable of saying or doing.
I can't deliver you, or
save you. The problem is
that you like being where you
are and really don't want
to be helped. You just
want to be heard, to tread
the water of feeling sorry
for yourself, to remain
this victim of life. Chaos
is the house you live in,
and I'm sorry, I just can't
visit anymore. I have to go.