You wouldn't break a turtle's shell.
To them, you'd break a bone,
And yet you always try to break mine whenever I'm alone.
-
You wouldn't remove a tortoiseshell.
The flesh and skeleton are attached,
And yet you always point out mine so to the others I feel detached.
-
You wouldn't crush snail's shell.
It has the pain of a broken spine,
And yet and every time we meet you say,
in either a subtle or rude way,
that I need to break out of mine.
YOU ARE READING
The Quiet Club
PoetryThe extrovert ideal - The omnipresent belief that the ideal self is gregarious, alpha and comfortable in the spotlight. But how can you be those things if you're not wired to do so? Take a look through the eyes of those deemed "quiet" or "shy" as th...
