I am a listener

This is probably going to be long and personal. If you don't want that, you can stop reading now, I won't judge you.I'm a listener. I feel a certain responsibility upon the people I know. I feel so much responsibility, that I sometimes forget myself. I don't do that on purpose, I just care so much about everyone, that I can't let them feel bad. I love listening if people need to talk to someone, and I usually do my very best to help them. I look at things this way: if I can help just one person in need, I get better. I try to tell people that I'll gladly help them, but I don't think they ever plan on asking for my help. I want to make sure that all my friends are doing okay, so I ask them to tell me when they need someone to listen, because I know how it feels to have no one to talk to. It tends to get me to the head, and I seem clingy, which is horrible, because I just want to help.
I lost one friend by letting her down, and I don't want to lose another, so I do my best to ask if there's anything I can do, when they're upset. I write poetry when I'm upset, and this is what came out of losing my friend: 
She is alone once again Alone, only the bottles keep her company One is emptied, another is opened One is broken, another is taken from the box One is broken, as goes for her skin Her skin, her mind, her hopes Everything is broken A bottle broken, a piece of broken bottle It feels like it helps As she tears her skin open once again Little does she know that someone is watching Someone, who wants to help Someone who keeps asking her They want to know what is wrong But she tells nothing She keeps quiet No one knows that she is in pain Because she cannot tell She does not want people to know They interfere She wants to make an end to it The bottles, the pain, the misery Misery loves company Company loves more She loves the relief The scars provide The glass is open Once again She opens a bottle to follow Little does she know It has become a problem A seemingly unsolvable problem At age eighteen Is it normal Will it ever be? Having these problems are not normal Not at that age The pills to kill the pain The pills to kill the misery The pills that will eventually kill her She stopped caring a long time ago One goes down Two go down Three go down Three should do it She ends her life Little does she know She took one more life Little does she know, she took mine too

If you've read this, please let me know! If so, thank you!