my sympathies aren’t born of grace
like in the way of the benevolent heiress who,
ever-so-delicately, extends cupped hands
to feed the twittering songbirds
perched on her windowsill
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it comes from a far more wretched place,
emerging so unsightly, it almost contradicts
the inherent virtue of the word
because it isn’t fueled by love or fortune,
but by every instance unaccounted for
in which i should’ve felt the same pity
for myself
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my sympathy is abundant and involuntary
as though in response to constant overflow
and extends much further than hungry birds
or grieving friends
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it reaches all the way out to lone, discarded cans
that didn’t quite make it to the trash bin,
and to the virtual strangers that walk past,
their defeats and quandaries overheard,
and to every unfortunate soul between,
under the sole condition that
they don’t share a brain with me
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868Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA0wAlWG49d
868Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXzuLFcmDlP
868Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy0qUGI4Ha0
868Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaIpWUiQgbN
868Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4RLlmDSI4a
and then Add to home screen.