I was told to write out my feelings
On a piece of white paper

But as I sit here
Half an hour later
It’s empty,

And honestly,
I couldn’t have said it better.

I’ve always enjoyed
Sitting in silence
With a book in my hand
A cup in the other

Being alone is nice
Whether it’s on a walk
Or lost in my music
It frees my mind.

I like eating alone
I like playing games alone
Or maybe just biking
Or some archery
Alone.

But when I see a mom laughing with her kid
Or a group of friends joking
And enjoying each other
Or someone with their lover
Something hits me.

For someone
Who enjoys being alone
I really don’t fancy
Being lonely.

As I stand in the bathroom
In front of the mirror
I meet my own eyes
And look hard

I’ve changed.
I’m not the me I once thought I was
But, really
Who did I think I was before?

Small details on my face
Changes in my tone
They weren’t there last time I checked
Who am I?

I used to be
The Bleach-Blond Haired
The sparkly-blue eyed kid
Not even those traits held true to me.

I hold out my arms in front of me
They’re larger than I remember
My face looks older
My eyes look tired

What is my identity?
How could I answer that?
You could ask me
For any of my favorite things

I’d give you an answer
That isn’t my own
But one I picked up
From someone else

I absorb others’ dialects
Their likes
Their dislikes
And the saddest part?

I don’t even know
Who I am
Without their answers
I don’t know

Who I was once
When I truly lived
For myself.
I don’t know anymore.

Will I ever find out who I was
Who I am
Who I will be
On my own?

The sounds of an autumn forest, the chirping of the birds,
The swaying of the leaves, The crackling leaves and sticks
On the soft dirt ground. The smells of the crisp autumn air,
Even a few deer calmly sipping at a lake. It all joins together
To create an image, a tranquil scene. Everything in its place.

But in comes the hunters with guns loaded, blood in their eyes
As they take aim, they instead fill the air with a smell
The scent of lead bullets and smoke and blood overwhelms
The sound of pops and thuds as the landscape slowly ruins
Nothing but corpses and hunters left.

They pack up their game and leave, the scene still a mess
They’ve got what they wanted, so why should it matter
If the forest sustains damage, they wouldn’t care.
Sometimes people can be hunters to others’ forests
Coming in, disrupting the harmony for their own benefit
And Leaving the scene one of discord.