Being deaf is ecstasy,
You may think it quaint,
But I do not fight destiny.

A man who knows his place,
In the scheme of things,
Sits back to watch,

The struggles,
In fruitless tiles,
Of the quilt laid in fate.

To see and not be deceived,
By the lies of other’s words,
To judge solely on action,
And never on what you heard.

To never be afraid,
Of that ever beating roar,
The ticking Heart,

A sign of life,
That I could care less,
For.

To be deaf is agony.
I dread it every morning.
To be judges so completely.
By one little malfunction.

I walk to school alone,
And even surrounded by friends,
I am but an unknown…

To never hear the birds chirping,
Or the beautiful octaves,
Of singers from near and far.

Or to hear my sweet lovers whispers,
Deep inside my ear.

To not know the pain of a radio on high,
Or to be able to live my life, completely devoid,
Of an inaudible sigh.

But, by now you’ll probably have tuned this out,
And that’s something with which I can empathize