#sympathy
I'm a vampire aching for food,
Mouth watering for validation,
Drawing concern from arteries,
Living off worried looks.
Happiness is like poison,
Normalcy burning my skin.
I begin to starve when things seem,
Too good.
When scars fade the itch for blood returns.
So tell me,
Tell me it wasn't right,
Tell me I didn't deserve that?
Tell me it was abuse, neglect.
I'm begging you,
Convince me,
Convince me I'm not dramatic.
Prove I'm a victim of my environment,
And not deeply flawed from the start.
If you can't,
Please,
Please drive a wooden stake,
Through this cold and desperate heart.
5d ago
May 29, 2026 at 5:05 AM UTC
Did someone tell you?
Something that can be little
secretive yet helpful
Good deeds and that they can bring rewards?
The good deeds that can pull blessings in this world like zakat that can increase wealth
Can there be attempts to stop the specific targeting on those who maybe more empathetic and sympathetic?
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 1:40 PM UTC
Yeah!!
I mean yes...
I do fall in love quickly, BUT
wait—that doesn't mean I'm not the one for YOU.
Sue... LOOK! Two birds on a wire, haha...
Oh, you don't get that reference?
Oh, okay. Uh, well...
I like you. I know we just met two days ago, but I think you're cool!!...
Silly me to be a fool,
But I just fell hard for you.
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 12:04 PM UTC
A Pope
Brings forth hope
But a ruler
Spews hate and horror
A Pope
Spreads peace
In the north, south, west and east
But a prideful mope like a squalid dope
Spits horrors and terrors
And starts fights and wars
A peaceful person de-escalates
But a belligerent bully booms, inflates
And explodes like a lost missile
Which acts like a cussed imbecile
A real leader
Never follows an oppressor
Yet a follower is a master loser
Who lies about everything
Even when the sun is shining
A Pope
Offers love and hope
But a loser displays no compassion
No sympathy and no comprehension.
Copyright © April 2016 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 10:21 PM UTC
And there I was. A witness to spontaneity and self-expression; to emancipation.
Not mine, however. Someone else entirely, but physically close. As in the very next seat.
"You are so composed," I must have said at some point.
"It's all those long years standing outside in the terminator line, waiting to enter," I believe she replied.
"Why do you come here then?" was my stupid question.
"The autumn theatricals and the chance to start again," was her all too brief answer.
Just then she stepped out of the shadows, breaking off from a wall of men, and onto the edge of the stage...her eyes beamed undiluted willpower. It is a gaze that both chills and warms, radiating and demanding trust in this singularly self-possessed presence.
In the forensic lighting, she had a sticky acid smile, her ****** in candid detail, stellar in spectra.
Everyone throws things at the understudy, but not this night. She danced against time with an audience of unknown monarchs; some with crowns, some with wings.
She held birdsong, truth slipping through her fingers, pollinating protagonists caught in the (third) act.
A night here is like wading in a pond with a jagged edge; the wind blows through and thoroughly, and still she stays calm, collective. She always seems to be waiting for something. Permanence seems out of reach; some great apocalyptic event is on the horizon, and she views the future tentatively.
"You are aware that everyone is looking at you?" I can't help inquiring.
“How can they not. On TV and film, there’s a bigger separation,” she says. “But when you’re breathing the same air, there’s definitely a reaction. Sometimes you feel a little bit like a ****** That’s part of the experience. The scary part is not the nudity."
Then she took a beat, and we subtly entered the frame of the play; away the bird flew, and she began to talk about grief and loss, her voice clotting, and so fast had the audience been beguiled that one softly sympathetic voice rang out from the front of the orchestra, as clear as a bell as she struggled to articulate her tangle of feelings: “We understand.”
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 4:30 AM UTC
I watch the television evangelist Joel Osteen with Josephine from
Ghana.
God wants you to succeed, he says. I think God died or lied,
same difference. When everyone holds up their Bibles and thumps
them
I make my nervous laugh.
Joel’s favorite story is David and Goliath,
how the little guy slays the big guy by throwing rocks. There’s no
singing
in this church, singing’s for funerals and death is for losers. I say to
Josephine
What kind of day was it for Goliath?
Josephine and Joel’s congregation
hold no sympathy for Goliath. Just as I can’t picture God
they can’t visualize Goliath with a wife and kids. I watch Shrek with
my wife and kids,
one of our favorite movies.
Is this done in every American town and the world over
so there is no need to feel lost or lonely ever?
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 6:27 AM UTC
My best friend turned 18 today
And instead of cake, he looked away
He thought of thoughts he couldn't admit
Zombie sung by Karoline Leavitt
History taught us anger
Is best thrown in the harbor
But when you know the people
War is so much harder
I wish the world could his eyes
Bright blue and heavy before a cry
And he faces upwards towards the sky
"Will I go to heaven when I die"
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 12:11 AM UTC
The tears feel heavy
Laden with guilt
Indifference at first
Why would I care?
Why should I care,
After all, we haven't spoken in so long.
then emotions come crashing
Each tear a liquid embodiment of the grieving process:
Denial
Guilt
Anger
Guilt
Sadness
Guilt
Emptiness
Guilt
Sympathy
Guilt
Anger
Guilt
Bargaining
Guilt
Depression
Guilt
Floating
Guilt
Acceptance
Guilt
The last one hangs like a stalactite
In the cavern that was our friendship.
Multiple paths and routes
Sometimes a light in times of being lost
And others,
collapsed due to disagreements and anger.
Words shared in contempt, not for each other
But for situations and circumstances that unfolded.
Ones that drove you to madness and despair.
But,
What if I answered the calls,
what if I said hello
What if I just said yes
What if I just
What if I
What if.
What if
If
If only
If only I had done to do what I always boldly profess to be an advocate for.
(I should have been)
My brothers keeper.
If only we had shared another fleeting moment of presence
If only...
The thoughts that drag their lifeless feet through my mind the most;
the swamp of utter loneliness and despair
that drove you to this.
The bag of holding
that I couldn't imagine you were trying escape from.
To stare death down and open your arms,
Not gladly I am sure,
But as a last resort to being rejected by the ones you called friends and family.
We can all sit and say
"It wasn't only us"
As a cathartic means to a mortal end.
There were things you needed to sort out for yourself
but only seemed to seek the help you wanted.
Listening to those who told you what you wanted to hear,
not what you may have needed to hear.
Waiting for the magical words
Or a sentence
To fix everything,
But those words would never come.
Of this I had no control
but I still feel sorry I didn't try harder.
That I didn't do more
That I didn't call again
That I
didn't.
Just.
Say.
Hello.
Old friend, how are you?
Simple questions I used to ask you so frivolously
not thinking of how one day,
sooner rather than later,
that simple question's weight
And desire to ask it again,
would mean more than any other I could've ever asked you.
A deep scar in my heart
To simply be able to ask,
Once again;
How.Are.You.
"Out, ****** spot!
Out, I say!"
It plays on my mind
But unlike Macbeth
This isn't a stage
But the world.
And this tinge of blood
Will stain my hands
For the rest of my days.
From the depths of my heart though,
I hope you have found peace
Rest and comfort.
I hope the after world is as you imagined
And filled with symphonies that sooth
So that you can play weightlessly.
I will always miss you
Even though it feels like
I have no right to,
I wish I did more when I could.
I will always listen for you,
Forever in the melodies.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 3:09 PM UTC
Depression reaches for your soul with grasping hands,
quenching all the candles of infinite joy.
It smothers until there is no light left in the world,
until everything is dark in the cosmic chasm.
Depression is a drug that never stops,
as it feasts on everything dear.
It takes and takes and takes
until there is nothing but emptiness.
Depression holds you hostage
in your room, your house, your world.
There is no escape, no freedom.
There is just a sinkhole that drags you in
and you grasp again and again
but that gritty sand in between your fingernails slides
and you slip and fall
down
down
down.
Depression follows you constantly.
It asks you to succumb.
And once you do,
it takes you under its gray umbrella
where the rain and thunder pound down.
Boom and boom and boom
blends into a mix of blaring sound.
But depression is still there
holding your hand.
It reminds you not to run.
So you stay in that container,
the container in the dark corner
where dreams disappear.
You might never escape the rope that ties you.
Depression will hold you.
Feast on you.
Sink you.
Contain you.
But it might not.
All it takes is a spark of fire
and depression will dash off
like a cheetah who has just found the motivation
To follow its dreams.
Until then it will hold you mercilessly
in the funeral of lost dreams.
Waiting, watching, waking
in the bare black hole of depression.
Don’t escape.
Don’t run.
Stay.
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 8:08 PM UTC
You say as you look around, you’re in a room full of strangers.
“MOM, DAD!” You plead desperately, but they are.. no where to be seen?. Seems that you grew up and are ready to start your own path, time to set sail and take your foot off the ground as you pedal to the front.
Way to go human, after 14 silly years, you tell yourself… I wish I was never born! Nothing ever makes sense.
You look at yourself with disgust and guilt and look at everyone so sympathetically. I hate this, I hate that feeling, why won’t time ever stop,
please stop.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 9:34 AM UTC
tell me --
who you are.
where you've been.
because i can't trust anymore.
i can't trust anyone.
between ai,
fake people
and old white lies --
im not sure what's real
and what's not.
maybe my brain
is too twisted
and is making
this all up...
im not sure
what's real
and what's not,
who i can trust
and who i can't --
it's all so confusing.
just leave me be,
maybe it'll spare me
the sympathy
when all my secrets
get dug up.
Aug 26, 2025
Aug 26, 2025 at 9:11 PM UTC
I believe everything
Happens in a sequence
In an order
I don't need to be
Versed in religion
To understand that
Every test, every sickness
Is moulding me
Into a more concrete form
One with unshakeable foundation
Through every pain
Along my incision side
Made me softer
To other people's pain
And yet I'm grateful for it
The pain yesterday is worse
Than today's pain
And yet with that I still
Don't glorify pain
I just think it's the only way
That I truly learn
Mar 2, 2025
Mar 2, 2025 at 10:16 AM UTC
A-walking on a wormwood path
that’s paved by age’s cobblestones
on past a palace of distant past
in a Prussian park, a mind unthroned.
He walked, a shadow
through the foggy night,
his pulse beat faint and shallow
as the pale and fitful light.
In the lace of this quicksilver mist,
a fellow shade now walked along.
She emerged from dark, adrift
like him. They hummed the same black song.
In what had been a pitiless pit
of icy fog and stony walks,
she was there as if summoned by fate’s writ.
In whispers, she and he began to talk.
They shared their bleak
and tattered tales
to raise the wreck
of where they’d failed.
And as they talked
their once distant light
began to shine
out in that night.
Here in their pale of desolation,
two kindred shades touch shadowed hands
and in their touch found consolation
to rekindle light in benighted lands.
Jan 7, 2025
Jan 7, 2025 at 1:36 PM UTC
Do I want to know
your suffering to get some --
idea what mine is?
Dec 27, 2024
Dec 27, 2024 at 2:54 AM UTC
When you share my pain
you don't know where it ends, you --
suffer limitless.
Dec 23, 2024
Dec 23, 2024 at 4:21 AM UTC
"I am a victim of circumstance."
Are we not all?
Play not devoid
But freely strum the chords
Of sympathy and even empathy,
Far from pieces which are familiar,
For situations one might sparsely fathom.
When someone's fallen
Reach out a hand to help them up
Even if it slows you down,
Even when it is not expected.
For when is a fall the expectation?
And who among us is the exception?
Reflect, act, remark.
If I am to cross the line which signals finish
It will be knowing you
Have completed the marathon.
Having waded the haze that is "competition,"
In a day & age where that means so little
And should still mean less,
I will have been obscured by nothing.
For in that trek, I won;
In the journey of the sport of love
I went the distance for a companion.
When I knelt,
I chanced a "prize"
But it was you who made me champion.
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 11:16 AM UTC
It starts like a slow leak in the roof,
a drop here and there, a stain on the ceiling,
but after a while the whole room is damp.
The world, once so sharp, begins to soften-
the faces blur, and the names slip away like
sand through a sieve, and even the clock
on the wall seems unsure of itself.
The future, of course, keeps going,
marching on like an indifferent parade,
while the past grows quieter, like a radio
that you never quite manage to turn off.
You might remember something-
or not-and the line between now and then
becomes a faint smudge on the horizon.
And then, just as you think you've lost
your grip on everything, the circle gathers
and weeps, not knowing whether it is for you
or for themselves,
for the person you were or the person
who is still sitting there, somewhere,
but has left the room.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 12:13 PM UTC
no matter the cause
of your tears
whatever the hurt
which bruises your heart
for any terror
that haunts you
it is a grief to me
that you should suffer so
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 12:22 AM UTC
she slides
a smudged shot class down the bar.
I catch it before it leaps its last
onto the warped floor.
"I feel so bad for you"
Fire rises to my throat
but I extinguish it with my spirit.
"I wish there was something I could do"
"That must be awful"
"You're so strong"
"You'll get through it"
"I'm so sorry"
The sober hearted woman wasted me.
I tilt to my feet
slapping not enough cash on the bar.
I try to say I'll never come back
but apparently my tongue isn't drunk enough.
Instead, I stumble speechless into the night.
I hate her, but she's better than drinking alone.
Oct 31, 2024
Oct 31, 2024 at 4:15 PM UTC
I am not gloomy,
just the same everyone asks --
How are you today?
Aug 6, 2024
Aug 6, 2024 at 3:52 AM UTC
Have you ever tasted bittersweet?
Have you ever felt broken, incomplete?
Has life ever not been fair blue skies?
Have you always seen through complacent eyes?
Sometimes, comforting the grieving soul
It isn't easy, but you don't know
Seeing tears, you're repulsed and unsure
You'd rather argue than console
Sympathy was made for thee
Apathy thy familiarest treat
For your lukewarm meals I pity thee
Your have never tasted bittersweet.
May 18, 2024
May 18, 2024 at 11:34 PM UTC
nearly five years old
my nephew plays
with a stethoscope
a fully functioning
auscultatory device
not just some toy
of unavailing plastic
and purposeless rubber
lost to his imagination
he holds the chest piece
against my sternum
the diaphragm cold
even through my shirt
making me pull away
momentarily
out of instinct or habit
even though
it is not needed
he sits listening
concentration tight
across his brow
with very real concern
as he informs me
that he can't hear anything
that i must just have
no heart at all
Mar 27, 2024
Mar 27, 2024 at 9:39 AM UTC
The sense of human
suffering is awareness:
global attention.
Feb 18, 2024
Feb 18, 2024 at 3:20 AM UTC
I abuse words verbally like my voice is Bobby and the dictionary Whitney/
Like a literary hyperbole properly arranged to explain this deranged brutality perfectly/
Force the English language to work for me like a particularly dark time in history/
Optimistically take the tongue twister trickery and aggressively attack a vocabulary vocally and personally/
Not physically but a barrage on your psyche, almost psychedelically/
Use words medically, like a surgeon I expertly plant thoughts whispered softly but assertively/
Moving letters like chess pawns to express thoughts masterfully and creatively/
Gruesomely grotesque but gorgeous thoughts written down beautifully/
You can't help but hear the perplexity of mythoticly placed words with comradery/
An oddity with the audacity to raise the bar and up the capacity/
Because what comes out of me has to be exactly what you see because it is me/
Not just a part of me but all of me/
I'm not a fallen tree sitting in the forest silently, quietly all by my lonely/
It's just the opposite actually and factually/
I will attack with a dialect so violent you violently retract causing you to react cowardly automatically/
I don't even have to lift a pinky, leave it stinky/
Let my words linger there in the air like **** smoke, thick and sticky/
Periodically come back to peek and see if you've figured out the mystery and found the key/
One that'll decipher decisively what it is that I've let out of me and spread to all humanity/
I could never have planned it, see, it had to happen naturally, organically if you will/
And not to build it up falsely but I honestly, back then, didn't have the ***** to let it out of me and it cost me considerably/
So now this mastery I hold of word delivery bestowed to me gets jotted down feverishly/
With an intensity equal to none inside of this ******* century, can't censor me/
Got a consistency that forces me to constantly cross the border of insanity repeatedly/
Time only to watch my talents as they literally wither away for all of eternity/
Such a tragedy to see such agony but please, no apology brought on by sympathy/
Just let me be as I drift farther out to sea to a place you'll never see/
To let these words mold me into someone you could never be/
©2018
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 4:00 AM UTC