Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 22 st64
badwords
'Empathy'
 Feb 22 st64
badwords
You say you spilled your guts,
bled for a love that drained you dry—
your wounds are real, raw,
carved in shadows of pain.
You call yourself an empath,
and name your enemy a vampire;
it's clean, it's simple,
a comforting division
of white knights and dark demons,
a story that absolves,
that keeps you safe,
but what if it's just another cage?

No one doubts your hurt—
it breathes in every line,
a trembling hand,
seeking solace in naming the villain.
Yet you draw the battle lines
in shades of absolutes,
as if hearts and scars
could be painted in pure black and white.
Empath versus vampire,
saint versus sinner,
but where, in these crisp edges,
is the fragile truth
that all are wounded,
that all who wound were wounded too?

You speak of healing,
and yet weaponize words
that were meant to mend,
to stitch and soothe,
to rewrite old traumas
into songs of understanding.
Instead, they sharpen,
twisting therapy into blades
that cut only one way,
and you—
the so-called empath—
risk becoming the wielder,
carving villainy from vulnerability.

Have you looked into the mirror,
beyond the mask of innocence?
Have you asked why you clung
to toxic tides,
why self-abandonment
became your chosen dance?
Did you ever wonder
how your wounds
might have wounded too,
that love and pain
can flow in circles,
a symbiosis of mutual hurt,
no vampire, no angel—
just two lost souls
tangled in the dark?

True empathy is not selective,
cannot bloom only
for the ones we deem worthy.
Empathy, fully known,
holds space even for those
whose brokenness
has broken us.
It asks the hardest questions,
dares to understand
even when understanding stings.
It does not absolve blindly,
nor condemn swiftly—
it sees humans, not monsters,
in the shadows we cast.

You say you broke the cycle,
and yet the cycle lives
in words of blame,
of unexamined anger,
of self-righteous tears.
Healing lies not in battle cries
of "empath versus vampire,"
but in the quiet admission
that pain is complex,
that every villain
once called themselves a victim,
that every victim
holds the power
to wound, to misunderstand,
to refuse the mirror's harsh truth.

Step beyond the narrative
of simple heroes and villains.
Let healing rewrite itself,
not as absolution,
but as accountability.
Not as innocence reclaimed,
but as wisdom earned.
Let empathy grow vast,
embracing all that hurts—
yours, theirs, ours—
until labels dissolve,
and the enemy,
once dehumanized,
stands revealed:
not as a vampire,
but a reflection
of our deepest, shared humanity.

For only then,
when we own our part,
when we see ourselves in the other,
can wounds become windows,
and love—
messy, flawed, imperfect—
find room to breathe,
not as war,
but as mutual forgiveness,
one humble step at a time.
An answer to:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4985445/the-aftermath-of-narcissist-vs-empath/

'Empathy' is a reflective long-form poem that challenges the simplistic narrative often found in discourse about toxic relationships—particularly those labeling one party as an "empath" and the other as a "vampire" or narcissist. The poem critiques the ease with which individuals absolve themselves of accountability by adopting the empath identity, highlighting the potential harm in using therapeutic language to demonize others. Rather than perpetuating a binary of victim and villain, the poem urges introspection, mutual empathy, and the recognition that true healing requires acknowledging the complexities of human relationships. It calls for a deeper understanding, urging individuals to confront their own roles in painful dynamics, encouraging growth beyond blame.


The artist’s intent behind this counter-poem is rooted in genuine compassion, self-reflection, and the desire for authentic healing. Rather than dismissing the pain experienced by self-identified empaths, the artist aims to deepen the conversation by introducing nuance and balance. They seek to gently challenge readers to examine their own contributions to toxic relationships, inviting a more holistic form of empathy that extends even to those who've caused harm. This work does not minimize suffering but proposes that true recovery and peace are possible only through mutual understanding, accountability, and self-awareness. Ultimately, the artist intends to foster dialogue that moves beyond simplistic blame, transforming personal pain into collective wisdom, and encouraging healing grounded in shared humanity.

___


In contemporary discussions about relationships, trauma, and healing, therapeutic and psychiatric terminology has become commonplace. Words like “empath,” “narcissist,” “trauma bond,” and “gaslighting” have moved from clinical contexts into everyday language, offering powerful tools for understanding and validating personal experiences. However, this widespread adoption of psychiatric vocabulary also brings a significant and often overlooked risk: the potential to weaponize language intended for healing.

This poem and its counterpoint reveal a critical tension in the way therapeutic terms can be used not only to foster self-awareness and growth but also to cast blame, absolve oneself of accountability, or demonize others. In the name of healing, these terms are sometimes wielded to categorize individuals into simplistic binaries—victim versus villain, empath versus vampire—stripping relationships of nuance and reducing complex human interactions to harmful caricatures.

The danger here is subtle yet profound. While therapeutic language can empower individuals to recognize abuse or validate their pain, it can also become a shield against uncomfortable introspection. Labels like “empath” and “energy vampire” risk becoming identity markers that allow individuals to project unresolved personal wounds outward, bypassing genuine reflection on their own roles, responsibilities, and contributions to relationship dynamics.

This phenomenon does not dismiss the real and profound pain experienced by many; rather, it calls for caution and balance in the use of psychiatric language. The intent behind therapeutic terminology is always to heal, not to harm. Recognizing when these terms are weaponized—either consciously or unconsciously—invites a deeper ethical and psychological awareness. It challenges individuals and communities to ensure that the language of healing is used to build understanding and accountability, rather than to deepen divides, perpetuate victimhood, or justify harm under the guise of self-protection.

Ultimately, true healing requires using therapeutic concepts responsibly, fostering empathy that extends to all parties involved, including ourselves. Only then can these powerful tools fulfill their intended purpose: not to wage emotional battles, but to illuminate pathways toward authentic growth, understanding, and reconciliation.

___


It is essential to clearly state that the analysis, poem, and related discussions presented here are in no way intended to shame or blame victims of abuse, trauma, or emotional harm. Pain and suffering experienced by those who have been subjected to harmful relationships or behaviors are valid, real, and deserving of compassion and support.

The purpose of this discussion is not to diminish the significance of any individual's experience or to suggest victims bear responsibility for the hurt inflicted upon them. Rather, the conversation seeks to explore how therapeutic language and concepts—powerful tools for understanding and healing—can sometimes be unintentionally misused or simplified, potentially reinforcing harmful narratives or cycles of blame.

Encouraging accountability or reflection does not mean victims are responsible for their trauma. Instead, it acknowledges that healing is often complex, multi-faceted, and benefits from recognizing the interconnectedness of human relationships. The goal here is deeper understanding, never dismissal. This dialogue aims to support authentic healing journeys that recognize the profound pain of victims while also advocating for empathy, self-awareness, and mutual understanding as essential elements in the path toward recovery and emotional freedom.

In short, the commitment here remains firmly rooted in compassion, empathy, and support for all who suffer.
 Feb 22 st64
Agnes de Lods
Sun
 Feb 22 st64
Agnes de Lods
Sun
I dwell on thoughts,
I examine the sum of my experiences,
Sometimes, I spit out extreme emotions.
I search in vain for something common.
I observe the struggles of all conscious beings,
looking for a universal language
that unites rather than divides.
I know…
I won't be able to ...
I won't find...

Has everything already been said or written?
Fortunately, the sun is still there,
watching over me.
Its light always finds its way
to attract my soul like a magnet
calming gently
agitated states of consciousness…
I wrote this reflection two years ago. I think that all my life I have been preparing to find the courage to start writing. It has been a long journey, and there is still a long way ahead of me.  I used to think it would be music, but in my dreams, my voice was incomplete. It took me a long time to understand that writing my reflections would bring me the relief that I needed.
 Feb 21 st64
Amir Murtaza
I saw her in the bazaar
after so many days.
As always, her face was layered
with makeup—
not to beautify,
but to mask the bruises.
Time had worn her down,
yet she stood tall,
a quiet victory in her eyes.
She had finally severed the knot
of an abusive past,
and for the first time,
she looked free.
I’m all out of color -
the dim light fills my room,
casting shadows of a waning heart
across my cloud gray walls.
I can’t remember what it feels like
to eat from my heart
and drink from my soul -
what it feels like
to hold the weight of the world
in my palms.
My memories are painted
in colors I can’t quite recall,
my words sung in a melody
I can’t quite capture.
What’s left of me lies
inside these four walls,
complacent in my capture.
 Jan 31 st64
badwords
A song I am working on:

Intro
(Instrumental)

Verse 1
A polished lens, bending light,

Through echoes lost in shadowed sight.

Fragile loops that give, forsake,

Patterns form, then gently break.

It’s what we give, it’s what we make.

Chorus
Through the prism, we collide,

Colors bleed and intertwine.

A give, a get, we seek within,

Where do I end? Where do you begin?

Verse 2
Ripples chase a tattered thread,

Binding lives—the seen, the dead.

We burn to heal, we give to claim,

In mirrored glass, it’s all the same.

We give, we get; we play the game.

Chorus
Through the prism, we collide,

Colors bleed and intertwine.

A give, a get, we seek within,

Where do I end? Where do you begin?

Instrumental Break
(Instrumental section with subtle melodic elements building tension.)

Bridge
Fractured hues and shifting tides,

Truth and beauty coincide.

What we give, what we get—

Is your love a game, or is it regret?

Refrain
What we give, what we get,
Lost in moments we forget.
A fragile spark, a fleeting flame,
In mirrored glass, it’s all the same.

Outro
Through the prism, time unwinds,

Shattered light, redefined.

A give, a get, a fleeting sin—

Where do I end? Where do you begin?
A re-work of a piece I wrote to make it more relevant to romantic relationships:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4927292/altruisms-mirror/
 Jan 31 st64
Em MacKenzie
Empty pocket and empty plates;
safely locked it away still it dissipates,
a climber of corpses climbs high to something great,
and the rest of us are buried standing within this fate.

Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
it seems to lose a lot of magic when you lose alot of money.
Life’s a ***** but isn’t she powerful?
It’s time to eat the rich because we weren’t born full.

The people’s scale is forever weighing
basic human rights against complete anarchy.
The right choice seems obvious to me, obviously,
but the indecision’s crazy with the lack of priorities.
A climber of corpses climbs high to heights we’ll never see,
I’d rather be a stone than those doing the stoning.

Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
I think that I’ve had it with their vinegar disguised as honey.
I won’t make another stitch in their golden wool,
it’s time to eat the rich ‘cause we weren’t born full.

A bullet in the street shot from behind;
validated and woke up millions.
No retreat and not changing their minds;
vilified for targeting their billions.

If they really cared they’d ask if you could buy morality,
though typically they’d see if they could find it on sale.
The funniest part is that they could acquire it for free
but it’d be just like giving an atheist the Holy Grail.

Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
it seems to lose a lot of magic when you lose alot of money.
Life’s a ***** but isn’t she powerful?
It’s time to eat the rich because we weren’t born full.

Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
more bills; they stack it and the weather stays sunny.
Rock bottom in a ditch, dazed and in a lull
now it’s time eat the rich ‘cause we weren’t born full.
I think we all know how it feels right now.
If I move my feet just right
You'll think I know how to dance
Hit the right note, at the right time
And you'll claim I can sing
And on occasion I'll be so sincere
That you'll think I know how to love
When it's all just a desperate attempt
To hide my ineptitude
A short and light poem
You must be drunk or high
If you think that you're the guy
Who's going to change this world
With a poetry supply. So why even try?
A couple of sly rhymes and a clever word
scheme won't mean a thing when you die.

So, throw that to the side
and allow me to guide you. Back to the carousel,
Go ahead, take a ride. Those feelings will subside
Once I've got you back inside. You might as well have fun
'cause you can run, but you can't hide.

There's not a single space
Where I can't find your face
And when you try to elevate,
I'll put you right back in your place
So don't make the mistake
Of trying to take a leap of faith
Cause we'll be here again
But, by then, it's too late

You'll wind up a disgrace
And make your poor mom sob.
You'll lose that one shot at that cozy office job.
You'll still feel alone, and you'll still feel worthless
And all this disturbance because you think
you have a purpose? All this to be a servant
for people who don't want service?

You must be **** determined
to make a fool of yourself, but don't worry
It's all cool; that's why I'm here to help
So, just follow my directions and stay
the planned route 'cause you'll get chopped down
If you try to stand out, and your words don't matter
So just shut your **** mouth!

...Listen to my voice, and this will all pan out.
C'mon, have I ever let you down?
You know who I am. I am doubt.
 Jan 23 st64
KarmaPolice
The hero of mine
My closest kin
Protector of fear
Where do I begin?

A mind of books
A wild story teller
Helping me sleep
Brothers bestseller

You took me away
On the high seas
We fought armies
Bullies and Thieves

I idolised you brother
Always by your side
Bikes from the shed
We'd go out for a ride

Long summer nights
Watching the skies
Satellites passing
Stars filled our eyes

But...

Youth escaped us
We were no longer free
The weight of life
Came down on me

The sun didn't shine
The shadows grew long
I searched for you
I tried to be strong

I missed your stories
I needed you brother
We drifted apart
From one another

I tried to reach you
But silence befalls
Keeping me out
Surrounded by walls

Ten long years
Since I saw you last
Only memories remain
Left long in the past

I really don't want
Our story to end
But our bond is..
Too fragile to mend

By Darren Wall ©
My PTSD doesn't just affect me, it pushes those you love away. They can't understand why you are not the man you were before. It's difficult, but it is what it is.
Next page