Poems by the MBTI Types

(UnKnown)

One plastic lady arrives at the door.
Cheeks ruddy, she rings the doorbell no more.
She takes one brick step in a house.
The house that's warm with cold.
She removes her jacket with right-angled moves,
Her spring creaking and her porcelain clinking.
She sits; upright, prim and proper,
And awaits
Whatever that would change her.