How empathic writers come to be.
Some things you know to be true.
In your gut. In your heart. You just know.
Thankfully, there aren't that many things
that will earn that degree of certainty within you,
because the ones that do... you crusade for.
Crusades begin small. And they grow
to such a momentous force
they, eventually, require all of you.
But you won't mind.
It will be a devouring you welcome.
Because as you are swallowed,
you come alive with a purpose
and a direction you didn't before think possible.
And before, it wasn't possible;
back when you were mealy-mouthed
and afraid of your own shadow.
But something happened...
Your heart cracked. And when you didn't die,
you knew it was so you could disrupt
the shenanigans of monsters and pimps.
You survived so you could change
the cultural palate from thirst for blood
to thirst for beauty.
I'm so glad you're still here. Still writing.
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