“Boundaried Compassion (After the Fire)”

[Verse 1] Most folks want a bigger brain like a trophy on a shelf, But mine was built like a lookout tower to protect a softer self. I learned to read the room before I learned to read the page— A six-year-old decoder ring, translating thunder into stage. Dad’s mood at dinner—barometric pressure in the air, So I mapped each facial flicker like my life depended there. Now they call it insight, call it “gifted,” call it “rare,” But it was just survival—learning where the danger hid in prayer. [Pre-Chorus] And Malibu looks pretty from the highway’s sunlit sheen, But the ranch remembers ashes—what “safe” and “not safe” mean. I survived the 2025 fires—smoke in my lungs, salt in my eyes, And I swore I’d never burn again just to keep other people warm inside. [Chorus] I’m the Donkey Whisperer on the PCH—Malibu Donkeys, midnight keys, Equine therapy and gospel dust, soft hooves, hard truths, big peace. I used to hold everybody’s grief like it was my job to bleed, But I’m not your landfill anymore—this heart learned boundaries to breathe. Yeah I still love deep, I still see far, I still hear what no one speaks— But I don’t take in your emotional waste. No—I don’t take in your emotional waste. [Verse 2] When I’m not in the pasture, I’m in the dark with a melody, Writing songs like sutures—stitching meaning into memory. Low-latent lightning in my head, the muse won’t let me sleep, But I’m done with constant scanning like the world’s a war I keep. I feel the collective weather—like a storm in every stare, A coffee shop full of heartbeats and I’m breathing all the air. They say “You’re so empathetic,” like it’s clean and like it’s free— They never paid the body-tax, they never saw what it did to me. [Pre-Chorus] And then Thor—sweet alpaca Thor—one moment calm, one moment wild, ’Cause a baby goat jumped the wrong way and fear ran through him like a child. Trauma group kids watching Insta, hoping healing could be real, So I stepped in, halter in my hands, trying to make the moment heal— [Chorus] I’m the Donkey Whisperer on the PCH—Malibu Donkeys, midnight keys, Equine therapy and gospel dust, soft hooves, hard truths, big peace. I almost lost my left arm in a blink—Thor surged, fate got mean, And that pain rewrote my policy: access to me is earned, not seen. Yeah I still love deep, I still see far, I still hear what no one speaks— But I don’t take in your emotional waste. No—I don’t take in your emotional waste. [Bridge] I used to be a sanctuary with the gates wide open— Every stranger’s heartbreak turned into my unpaid devotion. They’d pet a donkey, cry a river, leave me holding the flood, Call it “spiritual,” call it “healing,” while I swallowed all their mud. But Jung was right—wholeness isn’t halos, it’s teeth and tender hands, It’s discernment like a lantern, it’s a boundary in the sand. Shadow integrated—now I see the hook beneath the plea, I can feel manipulation forming before it tries to be. So here’s my new compassion: I protect the space I run— For the horses, for the goats, for the kids who need a sun. If you come to take and take, you’ll feel the quiet in my stare— Not rage… just closure. Not cold… just care. [Verse 3] I’m not the wounded healer anymore—I’m the healed who guards the gate, I don’t confuse your crisis with my calling, your drama with my fate. I’ll walk with you through darkness if you walk with me in truth, But if you want a dumping ground, the ranch won’t bless that kind of use. This place survived the wildfire—so did I, and I learned: Anything that feeds on empathy will hate the day you’ve finally turned. Now the peace I carry’s sacred—like a halter, like a hymn, And if you try to cross my line, you’ll find the line won’t bend again. [Final Chorus] I’m the Donkey Whisperer on the PCH—Malibu Donkeys, morning breeze, Equine therapy and honest love, and a studio in my heartbeat. I still hold space—for what is real—for the brave, for the broken, for the clean, But I don’t host parasites anymore—my nervous system’s not a charity. Yeah I still love deep, I still see far, I still hear what no one speaks— But I don’t take in your emotional waste. No—I don’t take in your emotional waste. [Outro] So if you come to Malibu, come honest. Come aligned. Pet the donkey. Breathe the ocean. Leave your manipulation behind. I’ll give you peace you can’t buy… But I won’t let you borrow mine.