I was born with a sensitive soul:
hurt covers me like icy water,
leaving me shaken and weak,
unable to walk, to function
as a human being.
I weep when others sniffle,
sob when some merely dab their eyes.
inside fires rage and water boils
with an intensity measured
by the Richter scale.
Pain strikes like an axe
falling hard on my furrowed brow,
bringing me to my knees
begging for the waves to pass
and peace to come.
While some quietly rage, I boil over,
spreading my doom and gloom
everywhere my eyes travel,
making my presence felt.
Harboring my hurts
like a mother sheltering her young
I cradle them, caress them,
nurture them until splinters grow into
Letting go is not easy.
I preach forgiveness, but find
clinging vines cover my heart, blocking
my arteries, cutting off oxygen,
The good news is that time heals.
Good memories release pain
allowing stories to cry away the hurts.
New days begin with hope
for those like me, born with
a sensitive soul.