Hi to everybody...here's a poem close to my heart..HLOL...
Sensitivity

To be born with a missing skin
is a very painful condition.
Every trivial remark becomes
enormous in dimension.
If a comment sounds unkind,
it undergoes distortion,
and a wind-up or joke assumes
a gargantuan proportion.

In a world where words can kill,
it’s a most unfortunate state.
All that can be done when stricken
is retreat to let the pain abate.
The stress of this severe disorder
has a side-effect of hate,
and an anger burning up inside
which nothing can alleviate.

Once the barb has taken flight,
it pierces every pore.
Round and round it ricochets
until it’s reached the core.
There, in brooding menace,
it sows its deadly spore,
and, with relish, waits for you
to start another war.

Fortunately for the deliverer,
the harm is rarely seen.
Rarely do the wounded
display their inner spleen.
Instead, they tear themselves
apart rather than be mean,
and would never want another
to see how hurt they’d been.

It’s lousy being so sensitive
when trying to survive.
But, there is another side,
It makes one feel alive.
The war, since always fought alone,
means that one can derive
the greatest satisfaction when,
finally, peace does arrive.

******

Great big hugs to one and all...