Confessions of an Introvert


Finding words that capture precise feelings has never been easy. 

When a shy 5'3 introvert needs to confront someone suddenly.

My tongue bashes and rambles, cheeks flush while nonsense speaks,

And I'm left looking foolish, feeling foolish, weak, empty and low.

So thats when a thin simple sheet of paper comes into play.

This blank white sheet of paper for me can make my day. 

All the feelings I was feeling and the words I could not say

come flowing on the paper and dancing ink fills up all the space.

They tell heart felt stories of emotion, or even random thoughts.

They show that despite a quiet tongue, an empty voice is what I'm not. 

Written words are friends to me and come easily when called.

Sure writers block happens but I don't spend all day hitting that wall. 

Essays, notebook scribbles, lyrics, stories or a poem,

Organized, annotated, iambic, rhyming, or a free verse of its own.

These words fill up the paper and help vent my inner soul. 

So maybe I'm not Twain, Dickinson, or  Poe,

And maybe this isn't the next Great Gatsby

Although sometimes it feels like so. 

But these words borne back ceaselessly into the past as well. 

They beat on like ink birds searching for the best description

Of how it felt when I was discouraged heartbroken, just not feeling me. 

These words show the world exactly what I can be. 

That is if I decide to reveal, my every thought in pen's smooth ink.

But usually, I just write for me. 

Maybe the world won't know exactly what I'm feeling

But this silent therapy is exactly what I need. 












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