Introvert, Poetry, Writing

Extreme Talent of an Introvert

I never understood poetry when I was younger but as I grew up it I began to see the beauty in it. One of my favourite poems I’ve read in a long time, came across it on one of my favourite blog sites

Between these Lines

the smell of printers ink
the rustle of ancient pages thumbed through carelessly
I am here, if anyone cares to look
but they don’t. why should they
when I won’t leave this sanctum, my written refuge,
where voices whisper to me so soothingly?

the kings of old have been here
the seers knew this place well
these are their voices now
when they themselves have long since faded into the dust

this is inspiration
starbursts of color and sound waging war on my senses
competing to see which can compel the strongest feelings,
something I cannot bring myself to muster when I must leave.

what makes you laugh?
what is wrong, that you are moved to tears?
I shake my head and smile.
nothing, I say, nothing is wrong
I laugh and smile for naught at all
do not worry, no, everything’s fine, merely a thought has struck me
yet I know the truth

in this place, my words matter
for to the thirsty pages, my words,
my ink, are as sweet as fresh water
and as valued as precious stones.

it’s funny how sometimes one can only
be heard by saying nothing

–       Amber Rens , 17


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