My nook is dark,
it's stuffy and stark;
It lacks all grandiose-
or the shade of boughs;
It is perhaps dull
or prosaic for some;
But it is my nook-
A shelter for a recluse.
A sepulchre, it might resemble-
to the sheer extravagance
of the bright and colourful world;
The world brightened by tinsel lights-
Coloured by vainglorious cries;
My nook is quiet with solitude-
Offering solace to a recluse.
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