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The Empath

by Lauren Turner
copyright 05-10-2009


Age Rating: 10 +

My friends are depressed, my stomach's a mess
Their problems just tick and its making me sick
Its like living in hell, but they're here as well
I love them so much, but enough is enough

Empathy is rampant, no song is triumphant
My head is just pounding, spinning around me
I cannot focus, I can't stand the bruises
That I've got from feeling, talking and healing

But they just can't see it, live it, or be it
Why wish for them to feel it, or take it?

Because I just don't want to take it, live it or have it
Person there in the glass, who it is I dare not to ask
It hurts me all over, till I can't even be her
Do I have control? Am I made to console?
Guess I won't know, I'll take it as I go

My dreams are imposters, they're feeding off others
I cannot even tell if my words are mine as well
It's so confusing, to always be mimicing, echoing
It is just maddening, and always searching and always grabbing

I am just wishing and waiting, but always enabling
For them to come in and mess with my feelings

Because I just don't want to take it, live it or have it
Person there in the glass, who it is I dare not to ask
It hurts me all over, till I can't even be her
Do I have control? Am I made to console?
Guess I won't know, I'll take it as I go

I am a greedy, spoiled wretch who is needy
I'm feeding off others, the losers, the lovers
I'm just willing to want and willing to taunt
Myself into saying that these are mine, but I fail to define
That the empath is a toy, she's not meant to enjoy
how life is supposed to be, to be tormented by those who walk free
She's a wreak, she's distressed, all these "emotions" only cause stress
The empath is hollow, she's forced to just swallow
All the bitter pills, the cheap highs, the fake thrills
To wallow in sadness, to be driven to madness
But all these feelings, are they illusions?
Even the madness, even the saddness?

Because I just don't want to take it, live it or have it
Person there in the glass, who it is I dare not to ask
It hurts me all over, till I can't even be her
Do I have control? Am I made to console?
All that I know is that I don't want to take this anymore.






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        01-17-2011     Amanda Zurenda        

This poem took words that have been resting in my restless mind and put them out for the world to see. Empathy is a little-understood thing by those who are not empaths. It takes one to truly know one. I am an empath as well, so when I saw the title I immediately clicked because I've never met anyone who felt like I did, nor anyone who could understand. This post was beautiful and really hit home with me and I really felt the anxiety and lostness and pain from this post. I agree and can relate to each piece of this poem and I can legitimately say that I do know your pain. Thank you so much for this magnificent poem. Please write more!
        12-28-2009     Mae Futter Stein        

Hello Lauren,
Your poem Empath is one of many. People who are growing up in life, bored of things and not enough subjects or hobbies to keep life interesting for them to keep them from getting depressed. Life is not easy for anyone, and we all have to work at it. The end comes soon enough. You have captured the true things that happen in true life and have put them in words in your poem. Mae
        11-27-2009     Frank Fields        

I came back to visit this work again, as I do so many of yours, and I find that my comments from 6 months ago might have been less than accurate. Or maybe reading the work again, on a different day, with some different thoughts in my head, caused a different reaction.

Regardless, an empath is to be admired and respected. For being able to absorb and deal with all of humanity's pains and some few pleasures, an empath should be honored.

This work caught and reflected the chaos that most empaths feel. I think you set yourself a truly difficult task with this subject, but one which was accomplished more than successfully.

My apologies for not having read this work more carefully, first time around. ^_^

Frank :)
        09-11-2009     Alan Reed        

To be a good writer, one must first be a good listener - and I think you are and you have been. Maybe you are too good of one. Take a break. Set the rules - no heartbreak hotel stories for awhile folks! Your write is concise by the way it articulates how overwhelmed one can get by being the "go to" person when others are having troubles. That is an excellent trait - one that is very worthy and a scarce commodity.

Just take a break for awhile, Good Listener". Your ear is needed. Nice write, top-notch soliloquy. . -Alan :-)


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