Puzzles
At times writing my little stanzas I realize the depth of some poems are severely deprived of. Yet so much of me is hard to explain least of all grasp. So to give any idea how to entertain me is a grandness so few get to experience.
Yet silence is the biggest key. I thrive on it just as much as those in depth debates or spirit searching conversations. There is also the numerous spouts of alone time too. I dive deep into my world of creativity then.
Yet I do thrive on the time of friends and significant others (cackle - because I have no one significant). And yet that doesn't seem to affect me much. So few gather pieces of me and even fewer understand the parts they are given. Hence the loud name calling I gain.
And with the many books, movies and cat time why would I resort to searching. I have become well acquainted with the woman I am supposed to be. Nicely attuned to my needs and therefore I doubt any man can damage any part of implying I need them.
I learned long ago I am different. Unique in understanding I have my imperfections and by far not high upon crowning grace. I am not above anyone. Yet I understand I am incomprehensible too. So with that knowledge it is very hard for me to open up for any one.
By far if someone is peeked by my mysteriousness and wants to dig, they get weaned off that notion rather fast. I am a hard one to crack. And with that knowledge I tend to keep to myself.
Yet I do give some superficial information to those who want chitchat. And it is tedious to continue in moments such as those, I still maintain some connection just for helping.
Then I lean back. Slowly disappearing because I have inhaled too much of some sort of emotion from them.
So there is the moments that people only see of me. This harsh person trying to shed the toxicity I have impaled my spirit with. Then the rage of name calling comes again.
Can you see why my understanding of being alone is good? It makes sense to keep the walls up, right?
No more dissection of me. No more placing hurt inside me. Just best to be a cat person for life. Old and gray with lots of cats in a large library of my home. Right?
Cynical you may call me but why else should I open to people?
Yet silence is the biggest key. I thrive on it just as much as those in depth debates or spirit searching conversations. There is also the numerous spouts of alone time too. I dive deep into my world of creativity then.
Yet I do thrive on the time of friends and significant others (cackle - because I have no one significant). And yet that doesn't seem to affect me much. So few gather pieces of me and even fewer understand the parts they are given. Hence the loud name calling I gain.
And with the many books, movies and cat time why would I resort to searching. I have become well acquainted with the woman I am supposed to be. Nicely attuned to my needs and therefore I doubt any man can damage any part of implying I need them.
I learned long ago I am different. Unique in understanding I have my imperfections and by far not high upon crowning grace. I am not above anyone. Yet I understand I am incomprehensible too. So with that knowledge it is very hard for me to open up for any one.
By far if someone is peeked by my mysteriousness and wants to dig, they get weaned off that notion rather fast. I am a hard one to crack. And with that knowledge I tend to keep to myself.
Yet I do give some superficial information to those who want chitchat. And it is tedious to continue in moments such as those, I still maintain some connection just for helping.
Then I lean back. Slowly disappearing because I have inhaled too much of some sort of emotion from them.
So there is the moments that people only see of me. This harsh person trying to shed the toxicity I have impaled my spirit with. Then the rage of name calling comes again.
Can you see why my understanding of being alone is good? It makes sense to keep the walls up, right?
No more dissection of me. No more placing hurt inside me. Just best to be a cat person for life. Old and gray with lots of cats in a large library of my home. Right?
Cynical you may call me but why else should I open to people?
Comments
Post a Comment