Your kind heart won't get you across the field.
With each forgiving step, the wild flowers will eat you alive.
The bugs will use your remains for shelter, festering themselves in your bones.
Your heart and gentle flesh will be used as fertilizer for the ungrateful and unwanted.
You'll be nothing more to the field other then a part of their cruel cycle.
How many times will you forgive them for ripping you apart? For taking every bit and piece of you?
How long are you willing to wait for your kindness to be returned?
My dear, I promise you, it will never be worth it.
You'll find something so much more, a field of kindness that you deserve.
This, however, is not that field.