Oh silence of the night, you deafen me.
The whispers of the wind, the coldness of the dark,
All of it reminds one that he is lonely
And a single one is looking for another heart
But why does one need one if he’s totally happy
That an introvert rather be alone in his own thoughts
Be joyful and melancholy without a company
Only victories from sorrows of the past he have fought
Why must be a loner be of something negative
If the reality he lives is not what he wants
If all the dreams he has don’t want to leave
And happy is an imagination, and pain haunts
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