• Why do we hide our scars,
    our petty imperfections?
    We lock them away,
    For no one to know.
    We reach out, cry out,
    pray for help.
    But we wouldn't care,
    if it spit on our shoes.

    Our corners are filled,
    with blood and tears.
    Because nobody would care,
    if we wern't here.

    We all are broken,
    tattered and torn.
    But who's to say,
    we can't be more?
    We strive for perfect-
    or damn close to it.
    Our time's up
    when we know we can't be it.

    our names become insults.
    our bodies become targets.
    our wrists become gashed.
    That's the half of it.
    our joy fades to null.
    our pride falls apart.
    our lives crumble.
    And we're broken up.

    We are the forgotten.
    the beaten.
    the lonley.
    the teased.
    the "goths".
    the misunderstood.
    We'll make it through the darkness,
    And shine amongst the crowd.