Do not be perturbed, dear soul,
When the world turns its gaze away
When laughter circles without your name
And warmth forgets your doorway.
Keep to yourself, not in fear,
But to gather the fragments of your flame.
When you’re full again, step out
Radiant, calm, untamed.
They call us introverts, as if it’s a curse,
But what we are is real.
We cannot dance to the rhythm of pretense,
Or wear smiles that we don’t feel.
We see through the painted care,
The borrowed kindness, the shallow cheer.
So we retreat
Not to hide, but to heal.
We are the quiet thunder,
The unsung truth in the crowd’s noise.
Unfavored, maybe. Unseen, often.
But never unworthy. Never void.
If you are like me,
Know this: there’s nothing wrong with you.
You’re not less
The world is just not tuned to your frequency.
Stay true to your pulse.
Let them call it strange
For greatness never blooms
In the soil of sameness.
Be still, be real,
Be rare.
The world may not understand you
But one day, it will remember your name.
By Samed Gaida
