Introvert

Talking about myself, I have come to realize,
That people, often count my silence, for my ignorance.
It's maybe because I've seldom known my confidence,
You see, I'll mumble things out under my breadth,
Or shout them out loud, inside my head.
I can't dance around and jingle in joy,
Or make major announcements and expect an applause.
I know, I can not make my presence felt,
I don't tell stories with a charm, that will make you melt.
So it's understood, that you won't understand me.
But give me some time, I will slowly dwell on you.
You see I am the one who pays attention, I am a good listener.
No wonder, you're stunned by the subtle nuances
I catch in your scintillating episodes.
You won't ever notice what's inside my mind,
It's a feisty adventure,
The moment you start you won't look behind.
So stop! Stop perceiving me so differently,
As if I am some enigma, some mystery.
I do all of your stuff  too.
Though secretly.
I can read between the lines,
And wait till you're done.
Then gently churn and pour your soul out,
And relive you of your burden.
But, if you don't find me here the next time,
Don't be hurt,
You see, I am one of those.
I am an Introvert.