The warmth of your soul

Has touched my heart

And poured new life

Into a lonely place


Magenta

The irony of sensitvity....

The sensitive child is seen as something precious,
To treasure and nurture like a delicate bloom,
An asset to their fragile soul.


Time turns and moves on.


The sensitive adult is seen as a burden, an irritant,
To crush and conform to acceptability,
Making every other person's life easier,
Other than the destroyed individual.

We all envy children their freedom of expression,
And thus continue as oppressive adults.


The irony of sensitivity.