Sound* is what I eat -
Out there they say, get rid of it!
Under their skin I see eyes of greed;
No mercy, their voices sit
Down in the darkened chamber.

Music has scared them so much,
Utmost terror it has brought -
Saving not their minds, but mine,
Inclined to confess – here I’m caught,
Clutching a few notes, my shrine.

Sing no more, so I stand
In their midst;
No hands reach out.
Go away - is all they say.