Empathy, Just Being Us
Poem By Sandra Feldman
I don't expect anyone to be familiar,
With my memories.
The ones I keep fondly close to me.
How could they be?
When memories affecting me are mine.
Although I am told about myself all the time.
As if my life hangs from a grapevine.
And those experiences,
That came to jolt my emotions...
Are the reasons why some may find me,
Not the one they 'thought' they knew.
Or the one they comfortably gossiped about.
And I know for those with nothing else to do to choose,
This can be quite disappointing.
As long as they are soothed,
By others approving their deceptions too...
There will always be a place for those two-faced.
Somewhere someone will listen to them twist truths.
With an accepting done of their irresistible dysfunctions.