Vicarious Pity

Vicarious Pity

Isn’t it beautiful
how tragic we

Our lives are lived, thankful
we are not
That Guy

We gaze from our seats at
the distress of others,
At once piteous of others’
experiences but
Pleased we are not
That Guy

We live through the Other,
glad that he is he and We are We
in moments of cataclysm, but
resentful of his position in
His moments of elation

We are not ourselves
We are someone else
We are someone else’s island,
Perched on another’s shore

We are so sublime
We are so tragic

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