Empaths

The empaths, they're fading away,  

Silent, unseen, in their quiet decay.  

No fanfare, no cry, no mourns,  

They vanish as not to add onto the world’s load

The empaths are awry

Not even able to cry

Not because they no longer feel

The feelings are swallowing them alive

The empaths, are gasping 

Chocking on thick stories of despair, 

Every soul feeling in crisis

As if nobody but they care.

With every horror that the world creates,  

It becomes theirs and the trauma mates  

They ponder, if by cutting their veins,  

Could they release the world's pains?

The empaths, they're dying, it's true,  

Their purpose lost, their light askew.  

For what is this gift, this curse they bear,  

If all they feel is pain and despair?

I think I’ve written 3 poems since being out of elementary school. This will make number 4. I have been sitting on this poem for 3 weeks. Afraid to publish because of how dark it is and how heavy I personally feel. I feel it all. I really do and I'm beyond sad.

It is more of a curse than a blessing these days and I worry about myself and all the other empaths who feel like I do.

So I had CHAT GPT finish my poem. Sometimes you need a little help from a friend, this one turned out to be robot. 

Yet, in the shadows of their plight,  

A flicker of hope, a spark of light.  

For empaths hold the key to heal,  

To understand, to soothe, to feel.  

In their empathy, a power lies,  

To see the world through others' eyes.  

So let us cherish these gentle souls,  

For in their hands, the world's heartbeats roll.

Thanks for the reminder robot. We’re trying over here.