My dearest friends,
As is plainly seen,
Are not of flesh and bone--
But of thought--And childhood fantasy.
Behind closed doors,
Far from view
Where no mortal eye can see--
Lives a world--Of simply fantasy.
It isn't much, but I think it gives you all the gist of what I was talking about. I wrote this in my teenage years and it was significantly different than any other poem I had written at that time. Most of the poetry I wrote was angst filled, angry, and full of hatred (and maybe a little blasphemy...I did mention I was angry...).