Insensitive__

A silent move that we make,
When we awake. . .
My conscience come and going come and go,
A troubled mind and twisted hand,
We use everytime this everytime…
All the sentimental feeling,
That sometimes makes our heart burning,
We surrender to a strong desire,
Ignorant to the needs of other,
Little whisper of little voices,
That calls when we make desperate choices,
Are we that oblivious?
So insensitive
So many choices to be made,
So little time to decide,
So little guilt on our side. . .