The reason I write.
Why I don’t sleep at night.
Tiptoes slowly in my head
while I’m getting ready for bed.

Empathy, what a devil right now.
Keeps me up at night, til I scramble through the day.
People pushing and pushing and they won’t go away.

The things once said now whisper silence instead.
Inside happy hides, afraid to let it out.
Too much, too good. Not used to it.
My mind really gets to running.
Either too far ahead, or too big a burden.
I’m afraid of everything.
Don’t let me get the best of me.

The mistakes I fight.
Why I can’t say what’s right.
Tango alone with a thought,
while I’m giving living a lot.

Happiness humming in the distance.
Empathy cooks up a fire,
wishing wells readied for overflowing.

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