The Introvert's Echo

It's hard to be the one who only hears, A listener keen, through all the silent years. My cup is empty, though I fill their own, No one to share the seeds my heart has sown. A good friend offered, gentle and sincere, To those who take, and banish every fear Of losing me, for granted I am kept, My quiet loyalty, a secret deeply slept. In relationships, a steadfast, loyal soul, Yet played and used, losing all control. To walk away, the single path I find, Leaving behind the echoes of a broken mind. Alone feels good, a solace, bittersweet, Though thoughts like heavy waves, my spirit meet. And in that drowning, deep within my head, Music's sweet balm, a comfort softly spread. I overthink the smallest word, the slightest glance, Lost in a labyrinth of circumstance. A lack of trust, a shadow in my way, Scared of disappointment, dreading every day. The crowded places churn my inner calm, And uninvited guests, a jarring, sharp alarm. In love's pursuit, a sad and unlucky fate, Always on the outside, looking through the gate.