The wind blew through my hair

Leaving its chill on my spine

I sit outside of my ghastly lair

Wondering when everything will feel fine

Wondering, when someone will care

I sit on my hill overlooking the city below

The city that treats me with such disdain

The city I once resided long ago

The thought of the city cause my blood to boil in my veins

The city that refused to accept me because I am different

So, Now I sit here broken and alone

With nothing but the wind to keep me company

The wind whispers that they should have known

That one day I would seek retaliation

And destroy them on my own

Without even a hint of hesitation

I have never written poetry before and I don't plan on doing it often. I don't know what good poetry is, but this is probably the furthest thing from it.