I don't have much to think about anymore
I sleep through the day and night
waiting for the moon to hear me
Like she used to.
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Persons having a deeply sensitive nature will often or usually feel isolated, as this poem portrays. Struggle is ineffective, except as it might eventually dawn on the person that they are in fact possessed of something of uncommon value that is not measured by how one relates to it in others, or how they might relate to it in you.
Broken heart surgery is a slow and painful recovery. A heart changes each time it's been broken, growing harder yet somehow more fragile with each new scar. You have an incredible gift of expressing yourself in poetry. It is rare to encounter the level of depth present in your poems. That depth, perhaps coincides with the melancholy. Ignorance is bliss, but to the deep thinker, the world (or maybe its inhabitants rather) can grow ugly