The room is full of sweet, dead air,
And I find solace within this lull.
All absence of sound or speech,
Is riveting, captivating, not dull.
In this noiselessness space,
My discontents can finally cease,
As voices die away,
And leave me in a well-deserved peace.
Some would be agitated,
Left alone, to their own devices.
But for I, who sacrifices her solitude,
This rare quietude suffices.
Abandoned to my wits and whims,
Without having to complete one tedious task,
I can let down my wound-up hair,
Disrobe from my illusory self, unmask.
And enjoy those eccentricities in me,
The ones others find perplexing at best,
Without fear of awkward silences,
And moments that are forced or stressed.
Instead, I can laugh at such follies,
That only I seem to adoitly get,
And consume such art,
The world perceives as a threat.
I can live inside my mind for hours,
Devoid of brutish prattle,
Until voices fill the room again,
And I must resume my battle.
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