How like a prison is my cubicle.
Yet I feel safe enclosed in this space.
‘Tis often claimed to be indubitable
That introverts desire a private place.
We suffer when with crowds and noise we mix.
We suffer from wild talking and blind eyes.
We suffer from the exrtroverts cruel tricks.
And ponder long on wherefores and on why’s,
Life can be so painful we retreat
We jail ourselves to gain some mental peace
Yet all the world’s our pleasure and it’s sweet.
So can a prisoner gain their own release?
An introvert is like a wild,trapped cat,
Which blindly scratches those on whom it’s spat.
How my heart sings 