The Empath took the path of least resistance,
the tilted head, hand held insistence.
The Princess Di of all things forgiving,
a Mother Teresa for the miserably living,
“I know your pain” she’d caringly intone
as gracefully she glided home.
In interviews and Q & A’s
the impassioned confession, her “Worst of Days”
and then in turn she’d show her heart
upon her sleeve tattooed like art.
The empath knew just how to show
she felt the pain she couldn’t know.
The Self help Books, the Love Yourselves,
her entourage of Help-themselves
the industry of sympathy
narcissistic in simplicity.
The practiced glance that inner glow,
that all those clever empaths know.