Sitting reading, absorbed in music.
People call it being a loner.
Ignore the harsh word, wearing armor ready to break.
Sitting wonder why.
Not a worry in the world though.
Is there hope in this beaten and scarred world?
Does it matter what they think?
Thinking about t hurts.
Headaches that feel like needles.
So why worry?
Stress, pain, hated?
Does it matter?
No.
It always change.
Never pessimistic
But not an optimist.
Never alone,
People or thought,
Sits the realist,
Buried in books.
Engulfed in music.