I fit into a shell
whos size
lays in the palm
of your hand

I curl my body so it’s
matching the hollowed spiral
and is pressing gently against
the cool, smooth barriers

The noises are muffled
and the air inside here
is how I imagine it feels
to fly through the clouds.

Keep quiet
Don't make a sound
Waking the monster is a bad idea
That come's with a painful end
Two soulless eyes stare up at you
A shell of a being
It's a body filled with hatred
For its mistakes and your happiness
It takes it from you when you least expect it
During a movie, or playing a game
You'll be fine one moment
Just living life
But then you speak too loud
Move too fast
And wake the monster within

Taciturn,
Stoics cannot crack

We can finally talk again
And I want to see you around
But I'm just so tired
Of talking right now
And I'd rather die
Than let you down
But I'm just so tired
Of people right now

never did fancy crowds
nor did I understood
those people who
did it all
for attention.
more of the
introverted type
would be fitting
to describe my soul.
never what I seem...
people often think
he's to a fault
"inhospitable..."
it's just a reaction
I guess...
to my problem
with crowds.
In a room with
1
  2
3
or more,
watch as I
shiver,
feel the eyes,
create stories
become
a bottle
that has lost
it's cap
at the end of
a table
with an
unavoidable
touch
beginning to
t i p
       o
          v
             e
               r
as all anxieties
present themselves
on the

f   l   o   o   r

fascinating
I find
how some can be
surrounded by people
yet still
feel
so
unbothered.

An introverted saint

An introverted saint named after a saint
Who died for rebirth of faith
A ******* is very intuitive and alive
Like poem
But that’s not who you really are
You are running away from your past
Your pain you took risk to give rot to a friend’s innocent body without why

The way it glows how the light holds you in silence, taking care of you
Experience the energy of where all life began when you met a friend

And yet you keep it so close to you
So you don’t have to be afraid of who you are... you might lose your mind you refuses to take it factual. A ******* wants to spend the cell with who he is.

A ******* sees an angel for the first time is a friend when he told a friend is an angel without a *******’s feeling in unclearly to complete desirable to be aware
Know your purpose feel your birth
Hear at first faintly then distinctly is a friend’s a state of harmony
The sweet strains of our union
Our friendship heats up the cold universe,
And give your tired desperate heart you lost your introversive
Purified by our kisses, are eternally healed.
It’s destiny by the way it’s weird feeling
It is magic?

A ******* is a weak man that he is extremely hazy
the way narcissism made him lack.

Your brilliance
Your heart is very weak because of flattery
You are not afraid in the world you get hidden away from a friend’s sight as light that from your introversion compare with extrovert in experience
But you can’t cook to save your life for who you are, you are so desperately to erase in anything with good thing come in your timeline to move to make sure you are safely where your home is with you
To believe in something that’s all around us
But hidden from our sight
The gift of the faith that destiny is willing to create us to be purpose to meet in happenstance that who we are
Life can be kind and zealous

Because you are beautiful. —They move me.

An introverted saint