On Introversion

Wed, 07/30/2014 - 17:38 -- Rede
I am a lonesome soul
As many a man has said
I do not have command
Any place but in my head
But power is in the pen
Written, I have bled
For though my voice is empty
My thoughts are never dead
And though I yearn in writing
My pages are but few
My thoughts grow cold and fade away
And must be formed a new
Each time I speak my mind
I can only partly say
What I have pondered to myself 
Long throughout the day
And when I speak to others
My thoughts which I have pride
Unless they be in writing 
My claim to thought seems lied
I am certainly anxious
My social mind is weak
It's conversation with myself
My infant thoughts but seek
To ponder deep the memories
Which no longer can I convey
Those mailable ideas
My mind keeps soft the clay
Alone my path's ideal
Abroad I see no plan
And though my passion screams for comfort
I am nowhere, man

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