It is only in solitude
In undisturbed peace
The multitude benign
Novels of mystery and fiction
Or tunes bleeding out of buds
Combined with aloneness
I thrive

Noise of not just the city
But the voices unimportantly
Whine and unsubscribe
I can find no liberty
In this circus; Confined
The key is unreachable
Yet I survive

If a mirror were placed
In an inconspicuous space
I dare not try to find
Albeit to look inside
The only place I’m at home
Now is in my mind
I’m still alive