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
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