#introverts
I am a list of oxymorons
Extrovert who
Reads all day
Sunshine smile can't keep
Clouds away
Selfish and loud
Loyal not proud
Running on
Coffee
Never stops
Talking
Circles under the
Eyes
And hatred of my own thighs
I hold on so tight
I don't know how to fight
I just WHISPER into
Chasms
That I caused
Filling them with my
Impenetrable walls of stone
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 1:05 PM UTC
I march
Into the valley of Judges,
Every eye cast down like a shadow
Upon me walking by.
There's no
Sun. The end
Comes
Slowest. There's no
End
In sight. My prints
Leave negatives. The shadow.
Darkly saturating. I look up
In fear of these monsters
At their smiling, squinted
Friend-masked eyes -
What could I do for you?
And the imminence
Of this moment
Tears through
My defenses.
Th-thank you f, for reading- goodboy-I mean
Goodbye, sorry sorry.
Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 3:47 AM UTC
I march
Into the valley of Judges,
Every eye cast down like a shadow
Upon me walking by.
There's no
Sun. The end
Comes
Slowest. There's no
End
In sight. My prints
Leave negatives. The shadow.
Darkly saturating. I look up
In fear of these monsters
At their smiling, squinted
Friend-masked eyes -
What could I do for you?
And the imminence
Of this moment
Tears through
My defenses.
Th-thank you f, for reading- goodboy-I mean
Goodbye, sorry sorry.
Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 3:46 AM UTC
All is busy,
Tangled in their own rush,
Wrapped in the importance of their world,
A world that pulls them far from me.
I long to pour out,
To speak my heart,
But not in idle chatter,
Not in words that fall flat.
Yet, they are all choked—
Choked with the weight of their headaches,
Their heartaches,
Lost in their own silent battles.
So here, I remain—
Turning inward,
Opening my heart in prayer,
Or letting my pen bleed truth,
In the quiet spaces where I am free.
Dec 16, 2024
Dec 16, 2024 at 2:54 PM UTC
They are always
Watching
Society’s police
Setting norms
No one can reach
But spend a lifetime
Trying to
Conform to.
They are always
watching and
No one stops to consider
If in fact, they
Are just returning
The glance.
-L. Frost
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 6:59 AM UTC
Introverts aren't really loners:
They are busy socializing with
their innumerable friends,
called
Thoughts...
Oct 28, 2020
Oct 28, 2020 at 11:19 AM UTC
i think it is normal
when a seven years old girl asking her parents
to make her very her own bedroom,
called her selfish, she doesn't care.
i think nothing is wrong
when someone refuse to go out
just because she want to stay in her bedroom tonight
called her lame, whatever.
i think two days straight
is not too long for not talk to anyone
called her a loner, she don't mind.
i think, perhaps some people were
designed to be alone
and that's
fine.
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 3:19 PM UTC
Silent and sweet,
Quiet and cute.
Feelings all hid,
In a jar with a lid.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
We are happy to chirrup with the others
but would the peacocks dance with us?
Our coats not exotic but shabby and plain
And we like being in places close to our nests
We love the sky and to breathe the clean air
But do not aspire to go where eagles dare
Do not pity us, oh great birds of pride
Our songs are sweeter- never mind our size
For vanity and attention is not why they are sung
But to plug the holes you skewered in our hearts
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC
*If this would unlock and unwind
Would you turn inward with me?
Just to ignore the world and all the people in it
Just for a moment
Could you forget about all that you’ve built alone?
And seemingly, be nothing with me?
And when you look and see not the front of me
Would you take it as a complement?
Not a slight
Because alone together in the silence
And within the moment that will not last
Is exactly where I always hoped we could be
Unified and most alive in the nothingness
Mirroring the moonlight back
As if we were not passive
At peace with each the other
And the un-world we create
Would you turn, unlock and look inward with me?*
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
I was an extrovert
Before I unraveled the mystery behind the sugar dipped smiles
Before I analysed the well spoken lies;
Before i discovered the hypocrisy of a good gesture
Before I learnt about the phony luxuries pleasures;
Before I heard the tale of overrated love
Before I saw the laugh devilishly hiding the hurt;
Before I noticed the dishonesty of scared friendships
Before I pictured the fate of shallow relationships.
I was an extrovert!
For I believed in expressed words!
For I never felt
The calm peace experienced by an introvert.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC
Only had I known
The true nature
Of my rugged edges
That they weren't supposed to be
So callously blunted
I wouldn't have tried so much
Wasting my time
trying to run them
Into circles where they never belonged
Into places for they never longed
Instead
I would have toiled
Sharpening them with the implied
And make them bleed with unwavering pride.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
You are all as loud as
a vaccum cleaner,
The living room's a refrigerator
and my room's a heater.
And he,
He is my safety zone,
a smell of his cologne
and I know I'm not alone,
I cannot name the feeling in a rhyme,
I guess it feels like erasing bad times.
Why'd you decide to get
annoying and inquisitive
when I'm high on love?
Why'd you push my buttons
when I'm on a high, love?
When I'm sporting that
love drunk smile,
just leave me alone for a while,
it takes time for an
overdose to sink in,
meanwhile, just trust that
I'm living from within.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
the nights you call lonely
are the nights i spend
reading and writing and drawing
and loving my own company
i enjoy dreaming of possibilities
and laying in complete silence
you see, my mind is so loud
louder than the party you're at tonight
and for me that is enough
i balance it out by being quiet,
by producing shambles of poetry
and endless jumbles of words
to try and understand
that it is okay to love the silence
and the mystery of who i am
you find yourself in bright lights
and loud music
i find myself in the dark
we have been afraid of our whole lives
it is the darkness and the silence
that make you so scared of us
but we are simply introverts
trying to fit into a world made for you
while you are dancing your heart out
ours are pounding in pride
as we proofread our writing for the 100th time
your open arms and our open minds
embrace in harmony
you see, i started writing us instead of me
because i know i am not alone
on these nights you call lonely
i call lovely
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 9:05 AM UTC
She barely existed in the world of people;
those faces, masks of lies and deceit,
she concealed her joys and tears,
for her companions - the pen and the paper
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
She cried In the sun as we sat on the
concrete lip of a family plot.
told me her regrets of returning God's gift.
*Life would be so different.
I can never get it back, I'm so ungrateful.*
The world underlies.
And we are sensitive people.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC
Stillness within tranquil,
Movements within clamour;
In mixture she stood there,
Introvert she names.
Gazing and perceiving,
Simply fascinating;
But residing in her world,
was nothing but hollow.
Catching her insight,
Diverting towards him;
telling herself,
that she never matters.
Self-pity, she would say,
But I say strength;
Pathetic, she labelled,
Thou I say brave.
She was simply a girl,
Malicious was an unknown;
Through dawn and dusk,
She became a title.
A title she called,
The Introverts.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
This, my friends, is an anthem –
For the ones who feel small; the introverts,
The ones who believe in things so much
They can feel it in their bones, yet at the end
Of the day refuse to believe in themselves.
You are all beautiful.
I don’t mean that in the socially-constructed,
Warped, narrow-minded sense of the word.
You are beautiful for your raw, honest souls
Your unique individuality, and the love
For every living thing you pour outward
In a radial, sunshine-spritzing way –
Promise me you won’t forget to love yourselves in return.
Yes, you, the ones who believe in second chances,
Big droplets of rain, the first snowfall of winter,
And the rejuvenating cycle of leaves.
The ones who believe in the sound
Of typewriter keys and songbirds
And the beauty of stars after a long day.
If all other things deserve the greatest joy
We call happiness, then so, my dear,
Beautiful soul-friends, deserve all the happiness
This great big world can contain.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
Anticipating discomfort
as high heels climb stairs
with light steps to avoid clicks.
Attempt to dodge the cigarette brigade
with quick nods and hellos.
Finally on their floor with labored breathing.
They are so loud- heard down the hall.
Behind the door there are friends
waiting for the next best topic.
Greeting friends,
drunk and drinking more.
Open the door to
loud friends,
laughing over each others voices.
The only thing worse than the clamor
is the spilt stout that nobody noticed.
But hugs and wise cracks are still in order.
Holding hands with a cup of speaking serum,
with eyes that already seek a clock.
It's too early, we've only just got here.
Obligation to talk.
Spy the lascivious in peripherals-
in the corners of the room.
What languid lovers narcotics make.
High stakes with low gains,
leaves mouths with ****** tastes.
Words exchanged in witty waste.
Spy the conversations that selective hearing
couldn't rid
about you- about him, about them
and the trouble we're in.
Avoid eye-contact, but answer to
"What's going on with you? New job?"
with a smile and a nod and an "It's cool."
Burning desire for an air
without so many ****** breaths.
Someone is hurling in the bathroom-
and friends are singing desperation.
Tap toes and fidget,
avoid more conversation.
Everyone is so involved, now.
Gravitating around the life
of the party.
The foyer's empty.
A platinum opportunity.
Fake a bathroom break.
Apartments don't have back-doors,
and comings a regret.
Slip past the lazy leg bridges.
No one's looking yet.
In between coffee tables and couches.
No one's looking, yet.
but some are rising for the night trips
of cancer indulgence.
Jet for the door and ever so
silently
close it when you're beyond
for relief.
The air is already colder-
slip off the heels and run barefoot
in to the rest of the night,
safe and alone with yourself
and your secrets.
Ignore the question texts.
Houdini?
Disappearing acts.
No, you're Candy.
you don't let them in your heart.
Ignore the question texts,
don't explain yourself next time either.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
Her eyes and lips and waist are sad poems,
which he finds pretty, but hard to look at, due to
the fact that unlike anyone else in the world, he's
indulged himself in the words she's composed of;
he's ran his fingers over the black print covering her
skin, and, mesmerized by her story, found solace in the
melancholic stanzas of optimistic sadness.
A girl with eyes as wide as the moon, maybe even wider,
hides behind books and songs and movies,
which prove nicer than the real world.
He stands tall and silent, one epic poem too long for
the world to read. However,while he's
fast asleep, she runs her fingers over the words and
pictures he's made visible to the world. One long,
sad poem about the world, one the rebels would marvel
at, about what it really is and what it never was.
Tattoos starting at the nape of his neck,
traveling down his arms and back, ink spilled upon a
lonely canvas, displaying a sad but accurate portrayal
of him: the boy who grew up too fast..
They're both odd and difficult to understand;
they are the poems that do not rhyme, the ones with
breaks midway through lines. Scriptures written along
the brims of both their beings, about a precocious boy
with tattoos and a naïve girl with dreams.
Love and dreams and perfume and flowers,
stars and books and blood and tears,
tears and blood and fire and angst,
want and drugs and needles and hate.
But that's okay.
In their affair of little talks, awkward silences,
holding hands beneath tables and speaking with their eyes,
they make beautiful silk webs of words, which hang from
the ceilings, are strewn along the walls and cover them in
their sleep.
Words to lines to stanzas to poems to stories.
Never had there been a more bitter-sweet relationship than
that of two beautifully sad poems in love.
Where he won’t say ‘I love you’, and she swears she understands,
and he sits on the sidelines drinking, while she waits to be asked to dance.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC