They all turn their backs
For they see only the skin
I hide myself within
They do not bother to dig deeper
Into my undying soul

They think they know all about
My so called “troubled” past
But what they think they know
Is false
Imaginary
Wrong

I am gentle
I am kind
I am not cruel
I am not mean
My actions
Are merely misunderstood

They see my distance as strangeness
I see it as protection
From these cold, cruel people
I am forced to call friends

They see my terseness as danger
But it is merely protection
From these dark, dead souls

I try my best to “fit in”
But I don’t
I am too different in their eyes

My home is the woods
I do not kill people here
Though that is what they say
It is only to get away
From the noisy, pointless work
Of life in the 21st century

Nature is my home
It changes through the seasons
Yet stays the same through time





You don’t see it
But my eyes do
Am I a witch?
A phantom?
Maybe

But I like it this way
I don’t fit in
I don’t follow the rules
And I certainly
Don’t take anything in this world
For granted