We are the quiet ones, the shy and the few,
Our hearts beating with depth, our souls anew.
We see the world differently, with eyes so bright,
Drinking in the beauty, in the still of night.

Our sensitivity is a gift, a curse, a test,
A fragile strength that we carefully nest.
We feel the world's vibrations, like a harp's fine strings,
And resonate with emotions, that others may not bring.

In crowded rooms, we fade, like flowers in the shade,
Our energy...