Inside an Introvert

Everything has a story,

the who, what, why and where.

I spend my life journaling

and watching them, over there.

Our stories come through music,

through books and on the screen,

they make us laugh out loud

and sometimes even scream.

I’m trying to find my story

but I’ve been locked away by time

I never really grew up

so there’s nothing on this line.

These hazel eyes feel empty,

the tears I’v been holding back

what’s the use in crying?

I don’t know how to react.

Who is this blank person,

glaring back at me?

Is there anything inside her?

I find, I can’t breathe.

I drive the road, unchartered

my past clings to the mirror

I don’t know what is out there

I can’t see what’s in my future.

I see the tree’s sparkle,

and there I find my peace

Crackling bacon and laughter

snug in a winter fleece.

I tell myself I don’t need them

I’m happy driving alone

but all my dreams include them

I think of them as home.

How do I break down this wall?

How do I engage?

I just want to wake up.

I want to be on their page.

This soliloquy could be endless

I could write from dawn to dusk

But the world is outside waiting,

and I have to try, I must.

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