They say, "Poetry favors introverts,"
But, of course, if oxygen does extroverts,

"Poetry truly loves & feeds on misery,"
But, of course, as she does on anything,

into my head, these thoughts still creep
the sun shines far too bright to sleep
so here I lie, in our Queen-sized bed
as Shadow rests beside my head

a small, black pup
that is her name
she helps me smile
through my pain
she’s with me
everywhere I go
that’s how she got her name,
you know


through speakers Indie music blares
to hide me from the world downstairs
sometimes it helps, I don’t know why
to keep from feeling dead inside

a guilty pleasure that I’ve found
I play with no one else around
when I need time, I need some help
but need to do it by myself