I grew up alone, the end.
I accept the wind on my naked skin.
I move in the dark, scared to be apprehended in a civilized world.
I'm sliding lightly through your civilization, through your midnights, through your passions, not being noticed.
You must recognize me if you've ever met me.
I've been called love by lovers, and grief by loners. I'm still a teen, waiting to be embraced, reaching for a sweetheart, searching for my shelter.