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FOR THE SENSITIVE, by                    
First Line: There's a penalty for being brave
Last Line: One asking gesture leave me cold.


There's a penalty for being brave,
For eyes too long unused to tears
Forget the way of weeping,
And grown drier with the years,
Make the heart dust also, atrophied
Beyond its first defensive need;
Better, tortured, that I live,
Bleeding in secret, sensitive,
From hidden wounds throughout my days,
Than blind to beauty's subtler ways;
Less desolate, to feel the spark
Of every flame, lest in the dark
I fail to see one dream unfold,
One asking gesture leave me cold.





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