Compassion Fatigue

The sun is brightly shining

As I write these timid words

Perhaps a poem about sunsets

Or sweet melodies of birds

But we can’t chase butterflies forever

Ignoring all the fateful fuss

There is only so much room to hide

Beneath the bench at the back of the bus

Sooner or later we have to decide

If hiding is our true stock in trade

Whether we’ll stay on the sidewalk and watch

Or march in the protest parade

But protesting can be such a pain in the a*s

We lose sight of the joy all around

How does one live with the suffering cries

While enjoying sweet symphony sounds

How the f**k should I know!!!!