Introverts

I'm a very introverted person and I think I wrote this poem in response to a few days of extensive and tiring social contact.

the extroverts of the world stampede in
to your mind, and seek to destroy it.
you only wished to be left alone
-alone with others, of course-
yet they tug at your elbows
and nip at the buds
that blossom from the ground into your hair.
‘come play with us,’ they sing and shout
and you can only whisper your disinterest
in return.
it is not for an extrovert to understand
your exhaustion at the sight of the sun;
the way your voice is soft and slow,
your mind content with being alone.