People think you are odd,
Just because you are different,
But in your mind,
They are odd,
Because they are different.
You wander around aimlessly,
Deep in thought,
Wondering about things,
That mean something to you,
But mean nothing to others.
You are an artist,
And a poet,
Who travels all around,
In search of inspiration,
So you can create a masterpiece.
You write songs on trains,
Or on park benches,
You sketch pictures in school,
Or in your friends house,
Wherever the inspiration comes to you.
You are a total recluse,
You talk to nobody,
No one knows who you are,
Not that you want them to,
You prefer your own company.
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