by Shawn Allen

isolation-tank

Do the blind weep for colors they cannot know?
Do the deaf long to hear the symphonies denied them?
Do the mute go silently insane with all the things they cannot express
And the screams of passion and rage that go unheard?
Do the scarred long to feel again;
To reach beyond the tough flesh and touch another?
When the night is dark and quiet
And I see my own gray reflection
These are things I wonder…

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