An Introvert

Voices everywhere, some loud and some muffled,

As if some beautiful music being irritatingly shuffled.

Parties and chill - are just a loud cacophony,

Gorging the calm nature's sweet symphony.

Our eyes work a lot while the tongue is seldom disturbed,

Which for some reason leaves the world perturbed?

We are considered strange as we do not resemble the majority,

As the extroverts rejoice with self-proclaimed superiority.

Right from childhood, we are pushed out of our zone,

And are urged and forced to be vociferous in tone.

As we strive to catch a moment of peace,

We are judged as depressed and sad and forlorn.

We laugh when the world laughs, we cry when in pain,

Our feelings are considered - not social or insane.

However, we just prefer to spend more time with ourselves. 

And within our small world, we choose to remain.

Oh! such a gift it is to be so!!

To have our own world within this world.

With our own friends of pets, animals, and a cup of espresso.

To be able to think out of the box and uncontrolled.

When finally, we are aware of our present,

We realize how beautiful it is to be an introvert.

How we can wonder about the moon's ever-changing crescent,

And can go through thousands of such thoughts while being seemingly inert.

A lone soul among thick and brisk crowds,

A silent being trotting, among all the chaos,

And within our mind, myriad thoughts abound,

We are observant yet distant like a lone albatross.