I wrote this poem when I was still in highschool, before I awoke to being otherkin. The imagery is quite striking, especially when viewed with hindsight.
Originally posted on January 9, 2005 on http://wanderingpaths.heliwood.org
Mists, swirling;
a dank and bitter morn.
Like unto, yet different from
so many come before.
Mists, swirling;
a haze before my mind.
Like unto a bitter fog,
my soul it seems to bind.
Mists, swirling;
bane to man or elf.
Unless I fight my caged soul free,
I’ll never be myself.
