On some lazy afternoon
Or dark, unending night,
An introvert is often plagued
By one annoying plight.

The tongue begins to twitch and twirl
The mind works uncontrolled,
The throat itches sore holding back
Those tales that went untold.

It so happens most of the times
The world is then at rest,
While words threaten to spill over
Thinking the time is best.

Oh! How the miserable heart
Craves for another ear;
But pushed aside eons ago
There's none to be found near.

Then the secrets have no choice
But to stay subdued;
The introvert re-bottles up
Secure in solitude.

- Alter Egos