There is a point
where introversion
becomes a dangerous affair
I know,
because for thirty eight years
I’ve lived there
That moment of doubt
recurrent thought
that the world
would be better off
and in your absence
wouldn’t care
W.E.
I’ve become too close to myself,
Offering myself excuses,
Dispensations for sanity,
I’ll let things slide to keep from hurting others,
Wander off into the comfort of my natural dwelling,
Inside,
Inversion,
Anything but dispersion.
I long to give,
But have been in here so long,
Coming outside will surely,
Dull the inner eye,
There’s light,
And it’s not of the Godly kind,
It’s of the daily grind,
Of scattered souls,
Trying,
Vying,
Dying,
To find.
They all want to be seen,
Whilst I am still crawling,
Scathing,
Clawing,
At a semblance of mind.
I know, I know, I know,
As soon as I come out,
All of me will be left behind,
And what you’ll get is a corpse,
A carcass,
An empty shell,
Hollow,
Unlined,
Undefined,
Blind.
How unkind of you,
To demand I leave this,
Inner mantle,
Where once,
Although separate from you,
Sacred,
I was enshrined.
W.E.
