Empathetic

I don’t know myself

or who owns my eyes.

I feel like an actor;

a ghost, a disguise,

 

I’m a colorless stranger

and I let myself rot;

but others are special,

and them, I do not.

 

Their troubles are mine,

about them, I care,

I urge them to speak,

to vent and to share.

 

I enter their bodies

and cleanse them of pain;

they grow lighter and free,

and comfort, they gain.

 

I may not be certain

of who I may be,

but I’m sure that compassion

is a big part of me. 

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