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Hoping to find fulfillment
Hoping the hands reaching out to grab us
Are the ones meant to grab us
Maybe the problem is our own hands
Maybe we don’t have any
Maybe we must learn to write compassion
In new ways
The penmanship of empathy
We must not be discouraged by the
Chirping of the birds of death
We should cozy up next to uncomfortable
Epiphanies
Something missing
Maybe that’s the way it should be