poem – voice of a

Empathy is not a sport.
It doesn’t come a little at a time-

Yelling out the window at
homeless people begging for
money is a game played by
control freaks of the world.

“Mommy. What was that angry
man doing to that sad man on the street?”

“Widening the divide. Some people
are dark in the places where they
should be light but they like the dark more.”

“I don’t like that. I don’t want to like the dark more.”

“Don’t worry. You feel too well for that.”

He winced as the window rolled down. But, this time,
a little voice filled with hope filled his uneasy mind.

-M. Taggart

 

 

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