The weaker half that dreams, or spins a tale;
The half that speaks in text and rhyme; the pale
And charmless remnant stuck without a choice
Of harmonies for singing, to rejoice
In double meaning or in shared wassail;
The broken sound of someone who must flail
Through metaphors of charcoal and turquoise.
When faced by numbers in a happy crowd,
While greeting strangers on the road of night.
Mute before the many, with no gift
For pleasantries or pleasing talk, aloud
I lack your sociability and light.