This is an ode to the unwanted.
To those who are rejected
regardless of how hard they try.
To the people who know the feeling
of being stabbed in the back all too well.
To anyone whose pain was so overwhelming that
they became isolated.
This is for the girl in my twelfth
grade class who told me she cut herself.
To the boy who got beat up on the playground
almost everyday in elementary school.
I never imagined that I would become you one day.
That I would be so mentally paralyzed and
resort to cutting my skin.  
Or so hated that people attacked me in every way.
I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.
I regret to say that I made you feel unwanted.
If you’re like me, maybe death was the solution
to your problems, but even that didn’t save me.
It turns out, if you’re broken enough, even
death doesn’t want you
Is there any true bliss for the unwanted,
or do we all pay the price?