Walk a Mile with Me

I've pointed ears aside my head.
I'm part elf, my grandmother said--
Said I was magic,
but not to panic:
just that I'm Irish: born and bred.

I might know what's inside of you
Sometimes, I can feel it, tis true.
Don't like when you're sad,
it makes me feel bad.
Can't explain it, just what I do.

Empath I'm called, I take your pain.
Give you a breather, keep you sane.
I'll take it, you see,
put it inside me,
and hold it 'til it starts to wane.

Like a hermit, I tend to be
Can only hold so much, you see.
I do what I must,
I've learned to adjust
to other's feelings inside me.

Sometimes, I wish someone else could
take what I'm feeling, that they would
so I can just be
the me who is me
but instead, I do what I should.

Then I go and hide for a while;
'til I can return with a smile.
Go on with my life;
without other's strife.
Ebb and flow: an empath's style.


























Poetry Form: Limerick

Limericks are 5-line poems with a specific rhyme pattern: AABBA,
with each line having a specific number of syllables: 8 – 8 – 5 – 5 – 8.