The Introvert Poem by B. V. Dahlen

I walk the stinking city streets
Alone, while the passing throng
stares,
Because my clothes don't conform.
Let them stare. I'm me, not them.
Although I wear my hair long,
And natural and sometimes have holes
in my jeans
I'm an oddity. Do I care?
I'm glad I'm me, not them.
So the suede of my jacket is worn,
For warmth I could do better.
It suits my moods.
It's comfortable,
And then again, It's me.
They can stare if they want.
Who are they to judge?
At least I'm free.
I don't bother to protest in
Their silly pettish battles.
My world doesn't deal in hate.
I get along with me just fine.
I decorate my rooms with blankets.
Their colors keep me company,
And in the winter they keep me warm.