When I was a little boy,
I wasn't one with an important story.
I played games, mainly with pokemon, without shame,
usually alone, without a friend
filling a void with caprisun that I could never mend.

And like that
I grew up.

I sit in my house still
in an age of lackluster and no thrill,
trying to use more caprisun to fix the void it’ll never fill.

And thus
I go to school

To watch the judgemental stares
of the student body’s glares
upon my person, upon my attire
casting me into the social mire
where no one else treks…
but me.

And when a child splinters and crashes
in the forest, chopped down by insults and lashes
and no one chooses to hear
do They make a sound?
or do they fade away clear

making them a martyr for me
and sprouting societal beauty.