Is there a rapture of feelings
Of every crier’s begging for healing?
Does sadness make a sound
And is it heard the world around?

My voice is drowned by the sighs
Of thousands only a score empathize.
If after I collapse in my mind’s doldrums,
Will there be a hundred choir hums?

Does sorrow make a musical note,
That can be heard like violinist’s bow stroke?
Are we the sufferers the only ear?
Or are we just full of fear?

We put on an act,
Or find a trade without giving tact.
For the world is a listener to merriment,
But never melancholy anti betterment.