There seems to be no one, I seem to be alone. You'll never hear it in my voice in person or over the phone. I cry a little everyday and almost every night for things I cannot change, things others find to be strange. For animals I see have been killed, for people's dreams that go unfulfilled. I feel their hurt, I cry their tears, I've felt these things for sixteen years. Sensitivities I can't describe, it jolts through my heart. I wish I could explain somehow, but I don't know where to start. Your tears make me cry, your blood makes me bleed. When you feel genuine pain, it's something I can read. I cannot even control it, I was meant to feel. I wish that I could show you, then you'd see that this is real.
