An ever growing clamor
My attention is deadened
From the noise, the din
Those who are sensitive
Those who feel the pain
Become endangered
From destruction within
Those sensitive become
Canaries in a Coal Mine
Given assigned seats
In the world's asylum
And then they are blamed
For the supposed crime
Of being the wounded
But the world is wrong
To think the silence there
Will possibly break them
For the cold quiet ground
Of the marble tile floors
Are cool to the touch
Soothing and clean,
Becoming sanctuary
For silence is golden
If only to the sensitive
Jean de La Bruyère: "A vie est une tragédie pour celui qui sent, et une comédie pour celui qui pense." 'Life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think.'
