Simply meant to be. (ON HOLD)

Wandering.

You could say my existence is alive as ever, even though my undead roaming is dull.

All I really do anymore is wander around the swamp, sulk in the forest, and mess with other's minds.

Many think they see me, even though it is usually paranoia;

My stories are told far and wide, tales in towns and on the internet;

I have "fans" that say they like me, even though they don't even know me.

Very few have really seen me and survived... I sound bad, don't I?

I am not really a bad creature; at least not intentionally.

I strike fear into many humans, even though they haven't seen what I have done.

All they see is what I'm capable of doing.

I never said I would hurt them... Those are just rumors.

Assumptions.

Lies.

I don't really follow anyone around like they say I do,

But I do pay visits to some souls once in a while.

Nobody accepts me.

I feel empty sometimes... Peculiar, I know.

How could a monster like me have feelings?

Well, I guess I don't, in a way...

I have "no emotions," because I lack a face.

I can speak and see, and move and touch and hear,

But people can't even consider that, I guess.

I don't necessarily have feelings, because nobody sticks around.

How can I feel,

If nobody gives me anything to use for feeling?

I have a soul, though.

Nobody can take that privilege away from me, I promise.

My soul is there, but

I need something

Other than the swamp, the forest,

The fans, the admirers,

The villages and towns of scared people

To fill it.