On the first day of kindergarten, he wore a yellow coat, the boys in blue jackets took him for a joke.
He didn't realize it then, but soon he would know, that when you appear to be different, people like to throw stones.
He painted pictures in the art room when he got to middle school, while the boys who ran track and played football spread rumors, vicious and cruel.
It was then from underneath his long colored hair, that the boys eyes were opened and he saw society crystal clear.
His first kiss was at senior prom, but no one cut him any slack. And the other boy was jumped in the parking lot for kissing him back.
On that very night he cried all the way home, convinced that his whole life he'd always be alone.
And as weeks turned to months, he never broke loose, there were too many antagonists, so he strung up the noose.
It was his parents who found him, lifeless and cold, they had his brother deliver the eulogy, and his belongings were sold.
In the end, its our differences that define us, they separate one from another, and life is far too short for us to throw stones at each other.