Poem: the Inner World of one INFJ Teenager


Permanent Fixture

Shroud was made of grey; he knew little of color
Little Shroud blended well; dark and murk invisible in shadow and light

They say he was born from soot
They say he was destined to live a life lower than hermit's dirt

Coporeus and unseen he mopes randomly; free of form but not of mind

Shroud observed and studied as he spent his time
Shroud was here and everywhere, he knew many people some very well

Even though they never knew of Shroud, His heart and care was with them

Shroud didn't know why or how but rules are rules

Our friend Shroud obeyed them

He must never talk to those he watched, as horrible and bleak as their futures maybe

He could give no help

All the things Shroud has seen and feelings of guilt of all he knew and none he could ever do

Years turned to centuries and centuries to more and the care that Shroud once felt was something some say gone

His love for those he watched faded into the shadows from which he was born

Shroud was beginning to be Shroud No More

All the pain he could no longer bear, guilt turned to blame

Blame of them that could not help themselves, for they are weak and deserving of their fate

From love to love his heart turned to hate

It grew for these people and there was no time for grey

No time for doubt or thought, Shroud had a new colors to Play

Red and Black, Ohh it was so solid, so strong and unyielding

So True and so my trust of "It and That" followed and soon after Everything Else

They shackled his soul, bound by the cold death of despair and the fury of Wrath

As the chains tightened the last of his voice could not be heard

Shroud didn't mind

He became fearless and surging with untold amounts of energy; The pure passion that was a mixture of Black and Red

Not too long after Shroud was dead

He took on a new name and that was Mr. Grim
Unlike Shroud, Mr. Grim had no rules

His game is depression, anger, and hate

He took away something more important than lives; Love, Happiness and Hope

As the world of all grew a bit darker and for who was once known as little Shroud

Time is of little matter as they'll be days and days and centuries to more

If Shroud Knew

His heart was to be impisoned and spirit gagged

He was to become exactly that which he despised

Just another one of the helpless, Unable to Truly Feel and Act

Nothing would Change.


Looking back at it now, it almost seems as if that was a another life completely. However much I've changed I cannot forget that is where I came from.

I appreciate just how dynamic life is and everything there is to experience from one end of the spectrum to another.

Because of that I cannot expect anything less than interesting in the future to come.

No! Shroud doesn't need drugs, shroud needs love.

Possibly. Shroud became what he hated because he was going through some externalized, introspective nightmare. He sounds like he shifts between the boundless joy of his own idealism and the crashing realism of his own practicality. I think Shroud is an INFJ.
Well obviously. Shroud is NaXX.

Hush you! I'm trying to sound deep and wise with my analysis!

It isn't like the thread is titled something obvious like "the Inner World of one INFJ Teenager"!

*reads thread title*

Oh crap!