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(Not 100% certain where the title came from. The poem is about people who live entirely for others. Not the sacrificial types who help those in need. It’s about those who are raised to put themselves second and never attempt to do anything other than support those around them.)
How does one live
Without a sense of self
Born and trained
To always do for others
Put those around you ahead
Leaving your own wants
Your own tender ambitions
Stored in a satchel that you always carry
And rarely opened to the light of day
Asking for one’s own benefit
Is met with criticism
Accusations of selfishness
Declarations that one must give
And never complain
Such an action is hated
For the ones at the bottom
Should never whine to those standing
Heavy upon their crumbling shoulders
Is there anyone who will sacrifice
For those that always give
And rarely receive what they truly want
A scrap of time to dream
A second to indulge the heart
And forget that their life
Is always lived for others
Legends of Windemere 
Very poignant. It sounds like someone forced to meet the expectations of others, no matter how unreasonable. I think of writers who are told by others that they’ll never make it so they might as well do what others tell them to do and put that dream aside.
I also think of parents who give and give and give to their children.
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There’s also the combo. Parents who discourage their kids from trying for dreams they deem impossible.
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