What is it you want,
With your cup of tea?
The one you're holding,
So snugly fit in your palms,
'Cause the tears that fall in,
Only make it sweeter,
And the glasses you wear,
Block the rain.
What is it you sing,
In the middle of the night?
When the lights are out,
And the monsters awake,
The sweet melody,
From your alluring voice,
Sends to sleep the angels
That protect you.
Why do you cry for him,
When he say he's done?
And you look at him,
Like one that holds the world,
When it's all wrapped up so tight,
In your altruistic mind.
What will you say when they stay silent once again?
When they leave from you pushing them away,
When they no longer speak to you,
Or laugh at the banter you try to make,
You've shut yourself away darling,
And the key to your lock
you've thrown.
But to every wrinkle and strain,
Forming on your soft, overworked skin,
I pray that your laugh is the same.
YOU ARE READING
To The Introverts
PoetryAt the unforgiving eyes of the world, I lay here with a pen in hand, To write about the secrets I keep, The untold stories of an introvert.
