The Introvert.

The introvert believes, dwelling in fantastical reverie,
Their thoughts paint a canvas of hues, yet uttered words speak with an introspective cue,
Their sentences falter, doubts cloud the minds altar,
All they crave is a world at ease, all they want, is beliefs gentle breeze.
Like a bird that can hum, yet appears so mundane and so benumbed,
Or like a flower yearning to bloom, but the sun flash casts a shadow in its room,
Closure is craved and in solitude it peaks, yet space is a need that the introvert seeks,
In quiet realms, an introvert knows,
Loves within, but seldom shows.
For, the introvert knows much more than it shows.