When people hear 'alone' or 'solitude'
They picture never-ending loneliness.
I find their claims inaccurate and rude,
I must correct their blatant opaqueness.
To be alone, to me, is needed rest
From extroverst who drain me of my spark
And send me down to my black hell, so stressed
From social interaction in the dark.
So solitude is my preferred place
Of residence, so quiet, full of peace.
Think not that I despise a warm embrace
Or I detest when hours about increase.
While I with friends a happy camper be,
A break from life to recharge is my plea.