empathy

Speaking Volumes But I'm feeling Quiet

Is everything under the sun still sacred? Has all of my empathy abdicated? That feeling of learning a word A meaning And hearing it all of the time The fleeting prose

Leaving me up to my own devices There's something about it that kills me softly While I'm inconsequentially spinning my own web Catching the pollen and anything that's left

Wouldn't it be nice to find a place Your sadness was a privilege you could play in? Where everything under the sun is kin And everything under the sun is sacred

(It's always been right in front of you)