The misunderstood youth
littered with scrapes and scars
cut away by the forked tongues of past generations
lying in the faces of countless children
slowly cracking the bubble of wonder
until it shatters in a fantastical display
of disappointment and sorrow
glittering across the sky
foretelling doom to the minds of those whose eyes widen with curiosity.

They grow up to be different.
Stretching their earlobes like their minds
expanding their views size by size
the ink on their skin signifying their individuality
used to cover the scars
and the lies
that someone with a tattoo can never be beautiful.
Cursed by those snakes in our youth,
but still going on
the poison of their words seeping into the soul
crawling ever slower to the center of our being.

But no matter,
this is how we are
different and scarred
unable to call ourselves normal
and so we trudge on
in this futile existence
screaming ******* to the rest of this dying planet
reaching for the void
clinging to what little meaning is left