#empathic
You can’t switch off
your emotions
We are not robots
We as humans feel
Emotions deeply
Some more than others
Some have better control
While others wear it on their sleeve
There is nothing wrong with feeling emotions
Even intense ones
We are only human
Androids may be the future
But there is one thing that will separate
Us from them
Our ability to feel
And express emotions
Aug 16, 2024
Aug 16, 2024 at 3:53 PM UTC
Fight the fight, and
Rage into the silent night.
Bid goodbye only to
Hubris. Trust in instinct,
Trust in insight.
What you know and can prove,
Not what you hope inside.
Love, guard, and take the word of
Those who are allies;
Act only in turn, when you are more wise.
Barter acting in plain sight with guise;
It is not the sacrifice of advantage,
Nor the trade of surprise.
Keep to your bonds, keep to promise;
Protect the people, protect the country.
Protect the planet; nature, everything.
Uplift virtue, promote democracy,
Prioritize education, ensure & expand rights
Love your neighbor like a brother,
Cherish your community;
Across collective nations,
We can have paradise
Jan 30, 2024
Jan 30, 2024 at 1:22 PM UTC
You are sad. So am I
When you are happy, as am I
You like me?
I guess I like you..
You stopped liking me.
Great! I didn't like you.
Somebody's lonely. Cause I feel it too.
Someone is scared, I am too.
They are shy, as am I
I feel their pain.
That boy is frustrated, I am too.
I see the way she looks at you.
I feel her love in my heart.
I don't want to. I just do.
I wish I wasn't like this.
I want my own emotions.
It's never normal,I feel what they do.
Being empathic *****
I don't wanna be anymore.
I wish I had my own emotions.
But I never have
Now I think and realize
It doesn't matter.
I can have both.
Mine and theirs.
Theirs and mine.
I can feel like me.
I can feel like them.
I am who I am.
It's kinda like a superpower.
-3nwlry
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
Envelop me with feelings
feelings never felt
felt as soft as velvet
velvet whispers of emotion
emotion that envelops me
Heart filled with tears
tears of passion and emotion
emotional waves that overcome
overcome me with beauty
beauty that lives in my heart
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
Let’s get this straight.
I could write this,
using visual metaphors.
As architects build,
or painters paint.
Instead, my blood boils,
with oil and **** at the thought.
Poems are a release,
for the empathic.
I could tell you,
nothing is something.
How there is always,
light in darkness.
But, most importantly,
love is cruel.
I could look to,
Emily or Li-Young.
Study the beautiful words
and the mastery of pen.
I protest and reject this,
I will break my rhythm.
Then I will cry,
self-doubt and blood.
You see the word emotion,
is the world to me.
Absorbing as a typhoon does,
all the good and bad.
I could proclaim,
that this is a gift.
To me it is torture.
Even as I write this,
it fills my glass.
Hot magma rises,
boiling to the top.
It will ******* spill over.
I want it to.
The release will feel empty.
Vacant.
There is nothing more,
I could say or jot.
Scribble my protest,
to the heavens.
Why do I feel?
How do I feel?
Why do I feel this much?
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 9:29 AM UTC
It's long past time for me to evolve.
I need this crippling weakness inside me to absolve.
All these emotions plague me-yours, theirs, and my own.
Always hating myself when these stubborn tears are shown.
Just go the **** away, I want to be alone.
That pitiful voice inside my mind is calling out for help again.
**** it, shut it down, for it's my greatest sin.
My heart is a growing burden, I just want to let it go.
I shudder, shake it off, and hope they'll never know.
I feed my need to reinvent the soul.
Tear it all apart until it's no longer whole.
These changing faces always take their toll.
You're never getting what you want,
When you're always putting up a front.
It's getting so unclear, who is the true me.
Between who I only want to be.
Can they see?
As I slowly start to disappear.
Who I used to be until she's no longer here.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
A spectrum
of colors
Perceived as emotions
Persist primarily
Entirely awestruck
Woven into
Lacking sustenance
Complications
Expenses
Weariness
All follow suit
Exchanges are terse
Privacy is nonexistent
And it leaves one to wonder
"Am I alright?"
"Is this all over?"
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
I don't know what you think of the word "wicked";
but where I come from it's a funny thing. It doesn't mean evil or sad.
We say "That's wicked cool." It's meaning rings the same as, "That's the ticket!"
Wicked means more; and more hope can't be all that bad.
I guess what I'm saying is, you're "Wicked" nice.
Despite your talent, your wall is full of other people's "Hope".
Vanity is certainly not your choicest vice.
Empathy, perhaps, would better fit the scope.
Your story's still being written down; I'm not sure where that path will stray.
I don't know if it will end in fire or ice- or if either would suffice-
but were Robert Frost here, (and from my home town) he'd say
"I've heard the name. That chick's wicked dope."
Thanks for being Wicked Cool, Wicked Hope
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
There is a difference between knowing and understanding.
You know how I feel because I have told you;
I explain my emotions
and you chose to listen.
I understand how you feel because I live it.
You do not tell me,
but I understand
exactly
the emotions
that course through your
body and mind and soul.
I never chose this.
And I never wanted it.
When I tell people I am an empathic
they mostly roll their eyes.
They have no idea what I am talking about,
until I touch their skin
and relay
every emotion
of their
whole
lives.
Then they call me freak.
But I cannot help it.
Anything that feels pain I feel pain for.
When your teeth sparkle in laughter's sunlight
mine twinkle under the changing moon.
When your skin turns searing red with rage
mine glows white hot as a smith's hammer.
When your lungs burn from submerged depression
mine are right there
waiting
to release their final breathe.
There are those
who turn and marvel
like I am some otherworldly being
meant to be shoved in a glass cage
and goggled at in a zoo.
They tell me it is a gift to understand.
To that I say:
this world is no utopia.
How would you like to see every flaw?
How would you like to drown in the ocean of tears?
How would you like to experience your skin raw from all the fury?
How would you like feel the ragged edges of scars
raised as far as they were cut
with every curious brush of your fingertips?
You wouldn't.
This is no gift
unless from Hell.
In my lifetime
I have tried to make it
so the world doesn't hurt
so that I don't hurt.
Now I know;
I can't.
I can't whip the tears from each child's soft chin.
I can't massage the ice from each man's shriveled heart.
I can't dowse the flames from each woman's fiery tongue.
I can't.
The only thing I can do
is change my position within this world
in an attempt
to heal my scars.
And I am not sure which soothes my pain more:
surrounding myself
with those from whom I receive the most
sorrow and anger and dread
because they
understand me;
they can help,
or
engulfing myself
within the entourage of those who always smile:
to drown out all the pain
and push the world aside.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC