Music and Hate

She felt the music
With everything she was
Just as surely as she felt the blows
Raining down on her
From her parents
When they beat her senseless,
She always retreated
To the refuges of her mind
Where there was no hatred,
No pain,
Only sweet,
Peaceful,
Music

She heard
And felt
The power of each note,
She felt each dramatic
Crescendo, deep within
She felt the smoothness;
She was utterly at peace,
She felt the passion
Of every artist and composer,
As if it were her own,

She knew,
Her family hated her,
Because they hated themselves
For every blow they delivered,
They hated themselves that much more,
Whether or not they saw it

She always suspected
They were jealous;
Jealous because they could not hear the music
Surely,
If they stopped,
And listened,
They, too,
Would be at peace
Because of their ignorance,
They would never truly know her
Nor would they ever feel
Such pleasure and happiness
After all,
Music rendered man speechless,
There was no better cure
For contempt,
Or hate

She knew,
They were the ones
Who would truly suffer
For their lack of Understanding
Truly, life without music
Was an unimaginable fate