Introverted extrovert

A few months back,

I always cried.

Feels like yesterday,

When I felt dead end tired.

What is today,

Is something that asks to be free,

A zone where I’m just me.

A complicated human is yet to be described,

A side that I never realised.

It’s 5 in the morning,

Yet it still feels like night.

It’s just me and the street light.

This sole emptiness was never foreign concept to me.

Once it was depression,

Now it’s the feeling of ecstasy.

A loud sneeze,

In the lovely breeze,

Reminded me of the empty streets.

Everyone is sleeping.

Lost in their dreams,

Except for the bird’s chirping,

That made me notice the silent screams.

The metaphorical sound of dawn,

While I’m writing this on a walk in my lawn,

Tell me something,

That it doesn’t even matter if I’m nothing.

This world is too big,

And I’m too small to be noticed.

I was so obsessed with thinking about stares,

That I hated myself

When nobody even cares.

I’m too small for my presence to even matter,

That nobody cares even if I shatter.

Just when I thought I was nothing,

A sting in my leg told me something.

I might not be as big as the sun in the sky,

But I am still a blood provider for mosquitos to pry.

I might not be a sculptor made out so fine,

But still there are places where I shine.

I’m not beautiful,

And it’s not objective.

I’m beautiful,

It’s not either subjective.

Beauty is not in the eyes of the beholder,

It’s just a conspiracy to stop people from getting bolder.

I just collected all my thoughts,

It felt like connecting the dots.

It’s not actually that bad to sometimes be alone.

I might not be aware of the newest gossip,

But I did get to know myself to the bone.