The Empath …
Uneasy with the thoughts of many,
buzzing direction-less sprays of negativity,
and I reel from their affront,
my balance and quiet of mind
confront my open heart.
Twisted this malice given,
by those in chaos, the lives they’re living,
and thoughts like bullets fly through air,
and I duck and weave trying not to care,
but its too late.
I wear their refuse like clad rags,
weighted, dark and burdensome,
as those thoughts so destructive begin to numb me down,
and I feel sick, frantic to escape the onslaught,
survive their hard edges.
I need my quiet, my solitary time,
to digest what I did not consider mine,
and as I restore my balance I try not to let myself
absorb so much of others,
to more validate my pariah life.
It is sad to hold so much, to feel what is not meant,
but life hands out what gifts we take
and this is my burden to accept,
as feeling and understanding is a gift,
although often it feels anything but.
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