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The world doesn’t get bigger than this
If the introverts are most dangerous
Why then is the evil so loud and clear
And good, a ghost of a fading whisper?

I’d tell you, offer a penny for my thoughts
Words are like blanks and noise is pointless
Man plays God and his thoughts are clay
The hands of his mind knead the earth.

The words we do not say are etched away
On broken runes and in tossed bottles
And when those timid waves come ashore
I hope you read when your patience fades

The nights are few and far between
Melancholy’s heartbeat rhymes my name
Sleep is plain and vain without a dream
Loneliness has come to stake its claim.

But in those piercing screams of silence
I have found peace in writing this piece
Like a heartbeat that drives you mad
In the wanton stillness of a memory.

I am The Recluse, this is My Republic


1 comment

  1. Mamahannatu – An impassive face often lit up with a smile A mind so old, like it’s been around for a while Uncountable works remain unfinished in a pile Struck by wanderlust; itinerary as long as the Nile
    Hannatu Adamu says:

    Introverts make the best artists, always!

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