The Introvert - Poem by Justin Reamer
I wander around a school,
Across a place that has forgotten me,
For who I am,
I know not, and I know that I am an outsider.
An outsider I am,
For what identity I know not;
I believe that I have been shunned,
That I have forgotten who I am.
I had a name, or at least—
I believe I had one. I think I did, but then again—
I cannot remember if I had one.
I remember I was always a good kid, that I
Always did what was right,
But throughout my childhood, I was scorned,
Having identity confusion all the time.
I was good in elementary school, for people were
Always good to me. I remember my teachers loved me,
For I always did my homework and was always very polite. My peers,
How great were they,
For they respected me for who I was,
As I was kind and gracious towards them,
And listened to their every word,
And was patient and polite towards them,
So they loved me in return.
I know not what happened in middle school, but
Apparently I was different.
My friends became my enemies and scorned me
All the more.
I was scorned in middle school,
Very lonely was I,
I had no one to cling to,
Or to lean on,
Whenever I needed help.
I was different,
I was never able to fit in,
Never find my identity,
I was incapable of receiving.
People picked on me everywhere,
Calling me names,
Beating me to a pulp,
And throwing my things around,
I had no sense of belonging at all.
‘What had I done? What had I done to hurt you? '
I had asked when they hurt me, but they shook
Their heads and laughed and said,
‘Nothing; you're just different, that is all, '
And they hurt me all the more.
I soon knew I could not fit in,
And I knew I was alone;
I soon became very quiet,
And could not talk to anyone.
Soon I became shy,
And eventually I became mute.
My former ‘friends' called me ‘Nemo'
Since I could never annunciate my name.
Middle school passed with all its tribulations
And its obstacles and dilemmas I had faced,
Yet, I was an introvert,
And I could never meet new people.
When high school started,
Many friend groups had gotten together,
And I tried to fit in,
But they shunned me out,
And it made me wonder,
Who am I?
I had no name,
For I had no identity,
I had no one I fit in with.
I did not know who I was,
For I only had a name.
What does a name mean,
If you do not know who you are?
What could it mean to anyone,
If you are not even sure yourself?
A name is just a label,
Something I carry with me,
Since I have no background,
I have no past,
And whoever I am,
And whatever I am,
I know I am just a shadow,
Coexisting in this world,
With many bright stars shining bright in the sky,
Casting me into the darkness of virtual nonexistence.
Who am I? I question myself,
Who could I ever be?
I am not an athlete, a musician, or an artist,
Nor am I an honours student,
Nor a socialite, an actor, a thespian,
Nor an orator,
Nor am I a leader, who stands out in the crowd,
Nor am I the class clown, a nerd, the comedian, nor captain of the football team.
I only know one thing I am,
That I am an introvert,
And you may find me if you dare to look.
You will see me in the shadows,
Wallowing in the darkness,
Walking alone in the hallways.
You may see me during lunch,
Eating by myself,
Accompanied by a full-table,
Of all the spirits of outcasts past
Who graduated before me;
You may see me eating silently,
And sometimes in deep thought;
You may see me writing vigorously,
Paying no heed to anyone else.
You may be lucky if you see me in your classroom,
For I am not easy to find,
But if you try very hard,
You may be able to find me.
I sit in the back of class,
Far from where the eye can see,
No one sits next to me,
And no one wants my company.
I am far from the teacher's gaze,
And the teacher does not even know my name;
My peers never sit next to me,
For I am so far back,
They themselves do not even know my name.
You may see me after school,
Walking around in the parking lot,
Caught in my own deep thought,
And never taking a distraction.
I will be caught in my own music,
With my earbuds in my ears,
Listening to my iPod,
Which stimulates my senses,
And helps me concentrate more,
For no one cares to know me,
And no one wonders who I am.
I am the introvert,
For I have no name,
I have no identity,
Or no personality anyone can identify;
I do not fit in the box,
For I am the unknown,
I am the shadow you pass every day,
Paying no heed to my insignificance;
I don't know what I am,
And, of course, you know, neither;
I have no identity,
And I am the unknown you fear every night.
I may not be human,
And I may not even be animal,
But I am a thing that thinks,
I think, therefore I am.
I am the unknown you fear,
The one you cannot explain,
I am the maniac,
Whose madness makes divinest sense.
I am insanity,
Which makes you fear me more,
For without my identity,
And since you have scorned me,
There is much method to my madness.
I know you, but you do not know me,
For I have never conversed,
I am caught in my own thoughts,
And society is not for me.
You may never find me,
But I wander every day,
Wondering who I am,
And what I am,
And I doubt everything that comes to me,
But I know that I am a thing that thinks.
I am the introvert,
And I think, therefore I am.
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Comments about The Introvert by Justin Reamer
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