Hearts of billions populate this circulating orb of earth and life and water,
All weaving into one loving, beating, hurting, helping, lost, broken, unfathomable heart.
One mysterious, now to unfold.The heart of one, an Empath: A Poem
My world is a world of contrast
A world drowning in emotion
My heart is not my own.
For as anguish washes over an acquaintance
As tears stream down their face
I feel their burden
As deep and piercing as if it were my own
I am as sorrowful as they are
I weep as they do
I can't help it
My heart is not my own.
The joy of a child
A life so full and promising
I see this on a mother's face
And joy washes over me
A foreign smile passes over my lips
Even if I didn't want it
My heart is not my own.
And when the day of sorrow
Is one truly belonging to me
I am weighted down with it
My deep darkness
Even as I struggle with my own
My heart is filled with the world's afflictions
Nothing can stop it
My heart is not my own.
-alessandra w
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I'd say we have something in common, but that'd be the understatement of the century. Heh...
ReplyDeleteThe first page of my "Emo Diary"––so named by my friends––is entitled "The Empath."
I read a lot of poems––I really do. But this one's the first to make me cry (this is a good thing). Props for that!