Alone I stand in this crowded place,
Surrounded by people, yet I have no face.
In this sea of faces, they see not mine.
No one to turn to,
no one turning to me.
What a hollow fate,
for the old extroverted, introverted debate.
With open arms,
I stand with no face.
YOU ARE READING
Unniched.
Poetry"Unniched" is not bound by themes or constraints; rather, it thrives in the randomness of inspiration. These poems are a mosaic of emotions, thoughts, and observations, woven together by the thread of randomness that knows no boundaries. As you flip...
