It is those quiet people that purges
Me,
From what I observe day by
Day.
It is as though they are on reserve for a high
Fee.
They somehow persuade me to want to 
Pay
To dig inside of them,
And to interrogate them on what actually makes their
Day.



 To did inside of these people
 To find out what makes them
 Tick
 Is like placating their lives around the 
 Steeple
 Which to me is pretty
 Slick.
 Mysteriously mistaken as I have 
 Found,
 Through my concealed, but eventual probing
 Words
 These people have common 
 Sense,
 But I never can hear a 
 Sound.
 They are at peace internally,
 But expose no external wrought.
 It is as though they do not even
 Exist.
 Whether quiet by circumstance, or by 
 Choice,
 I want to know that they do 
 Exist
 So they can contribute in glorifying their
 Stature.
 A person's characteristics are their
 Own
 Because every individual is 
 Different
 Even if ones lifestyle makes another 
 Moan.
 Having an understanding can avoid
 Beligerence.
                 

  
 It is those quiet people that purges
 Me,
 From what I observe day by 
 Day.
 The silent ones. Yes!  Sometimes like you and
 I
 Patterning our quietness as to the lifestyle of a
 Nun.