The warmth of your soul
Has touched my heart
And poured new life
Into a lonely place
Magenta
Magenta
Monday, 9 April 2012
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.
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.
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