Empathieves

my first sonnet... Empathieves Are empaths thieves, of feelings not their own? Like magpies stealing precious shining rings, They see the pain by strangers’ faces shown And understand our secret hidden things Our tears run down their faces, our delight May swell their hearts with love or blood or pride, Fond friends, or someone lonely in the night Who saw us on the telly and who cried Unwitting thieves perhaps, but nonetheless Possessed of power to bless or else to curse, They know our soul while others merely guess, May mean well and may love us much; far worse The psychopath, who sees us without feeling, Devoid of empathy, beyond all healing by Gail