Shallow sights of unrequited souls, wander through with angst,
with sheer sense of despair, plastering their face,
Realising soon enough, their prominence, going unheard,
Emotions going remote, and perceptions, precarious;
Tracking down and remembering how they were never received,
as effortlessly as others; and how their perfectly carved abilities,
were ever so easily neglected, siting no obvious reason.
But don’t you ever agonize over them, I tell you,
those beautiful people, with thoughts being sustained to themselves;
because you do not devour the asset that they do, the sorrow that they endure,
hiding way more than could be shelved, holding way more than could be held,
Their thoughts could imbue your barren soul, and words could incise your body,
Their skills could baffle your futile mind, and eyes could make you wonder,
Because them, they can hear angels whisper and demons heckle,
Loneliness caressing their soul, and insanity lurking around,
Because them, they can hear “Murmurs from the Inside”.