He knew how to forgive…
so everyone felt the fault must be his.

He never knew how to make a small thing bigger…
so everyone assumed it was never big at all.

He never knew how to turn someone into a joke in front of others…
so everyone believed there was no limit to joking around.

He never knew how to dismiss people outright…
so when it came time to speak of something meaningful,
they thought this was all he was good for.

And because he didn’t shout,
they mistook his silence for approval.

Because he didn’t keep score,
they treated his heart like it had no memory.

Because he gave people the benefit of the doubt,
they began to hand him doubt as if it were his share.

He didn’t know how to hurt back…
so they kept touching the same wound,
calling it “nothing.”

He didn’t know how to leave abruptly…
so they kept pushing, certain he would stay.

He was kind, not careless.
Soft, not spineless.
But the world often forgets the difference.

“The kind are not weak; they simply refuse to make the world as harsh as it could be.”