It's been six years since I left the cold;
Awhile since I have not felt alone.
I am so used to isolation, I do not know how to feel warm.
Though the frost is unforgiving, the cold is my home.

People offer gifts; of trust and of warmth,
And it is not that I do not want it, to be warm,
Rather I feel it is not mine to have.
I have felt this, not being worth it, since I was born.

I could easily open the door, and recieve the world's light,
But I will still be inside, locked in this skin.
the light will hate me, the world telling me I am not welcome.
So I will keep itclosed, I will be staying in.