There’s a party going on in the room next door,
So  I’m here listening to jazz,
Typing to the beat of the music,
Trying to get through the night,
Without going insane with the noise of humans that follows me.
I’m always in a filled room
A loud hallway.
But they don’t really know I’m there.
Sometimes I wonder if it could have been different.
Why aren’t I the one making the indescribable noise.
Maybe because even after two invitations,
I still didn’t think the invitations were honest.
I chose instead to light candles and do sweet nothing –

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