Healers

We are the cursed ones 
The ones who see more 
Than most of humanity 
Taken as if we are past the point of insanity 
Never taken with our heads in reality 
That's the curse of being a healer 
People gather 
Yet never true 
Only using what they see in you
Taking the punches you heal them
Yet destroy yourself 
Uncertain of the truth any longer
You grow resent towards the path 
Believing it chains you to loneliness 
That's the burden of a healer 
Never truly knowing 
Who's there for you
Or where you stand 
Yet still have to fight 
Yet so many dead within sight 
We are the ones chained by our sight to the
Battlefield
As the ones healed walk away
Unable to break free 
As all we see vanishes 
The sacrifice of a healer
Is wondering of the vanish 
Would it fully mattered if we vanished as well
So many try our tale
Yet never get our wounds 
Everything those try hards get
Or the basic diversities 
Of their own mind 
Never truly understanding ours
Yet deeming they know more
Than those who sit in silent misery 
Bleeding out on the battlefield 
That's the burden of a natural born healer' s story 
-loneliness