The Angels Were Generous

Lament of an Empath

None of the emotions are my own,
I borrow from those around me.
I don’t feel anything if I am alone,
I’m empty by myself.

I cannot share my love with a man
because if is his own from the start.
After a time, I return what I borrow,
and he moves on.

I cannot keep a clear head in tragedy,
because the emotions run so strong,
Through all the hearts and all the minds,
overpowering me.

I cannot sort out my own feelings,
because I can’t tell mine from yours.
In the end it doesn’t really matter,
none were mine anyway.

None of the emotions are my own,
I borrow from those around me.
You think I know how you feel,
beware of me.