A Self-Built Void

Enjoy the silence, my friend
and succumb to the joys that a world
without noise and turbulent hatred
can bring
My eyes still see, and my hands still touch
and my heart still feels
yes, perhaps it is golden after all
the breeze against my cheek tells me all I need to know
for I can still hear, but I deafen myself to those sounds that pierce my heart,
like the screams of children in faraway lands that are plagued by hunger, war and hate
or the cries of mothers of unborn babies
it weakens me to know that I am such a small person
outside of my self-built void