I won’t say why this is true, but I know it is.

The true way to soften one’s troubles is to solace those of others.

Our Secret
By Michelle Garren-Flye

Don’t cry, come here, let me hold you
I know I’m broken but I’ll make a soft spot 
somehow, in all the mess that’s left
of what once was me.
Don’t cry, snuggle up here, I broke off the shards
and I’ll hold you tight, and if it’s not enough, 
I’ll drop more of me on the floor;
I don’t need the damaged parts
and if you let me, I’ll turn it all to fluff
so you can lay your head down in safety.
Don’t cry, my love, your pain is mine
so I don’t have room for cracked, damaged pieces
you’re healing me from the outside in
because my arms must be whole 
to hold you.
I may be broken, I may have been destroyed, a faulty heart conked out—
but for you, I will be a feather bed.
Just don’t cry…anymore.