Thursday, March 10

Walking alone through this thickening wood
I never get lost, I just know my way
No one told me the direction I’m going
Will lead me to places I’d rather not be
I feel out of place in this open green land
Conformity has been a stranger to me
I have disturbed this forbiddening land
It doesn’t care, it would rather not know me
Out of place, a machete frozen in ice