She never knew being different could make you feel so alone
But she didn’t think she could help it even if she had known
They all say, “Be yourself, because there is no one better!”
But they knock her down every time she’s different from the others

Wherever she is, there’ll always be someone
Even when she became older, they’re never quite gone
Their words seem to get to her, eating on her bones
Refusing to give her back the pride that she once used to own

And her friends, they seemed like friends
But all the while it was just pretend
They left her because she was too much of a misfit
They’d rather be with someone from whom they can benefit

Now she miserably sits alone in her room by herself
How funny it is that they all say, “Be yourself!”
When she was herself, the world screamed at her
So what is the point anyway? It didn’t seem to matter

She left a goodbye note the night that she went
The next morning they found her, face down on the cement
Almost right after, they began their hypocritical lies
Saying how much they had loved her, “Oh such a shame she died!”

But don’t forget, reader, that they had been the reason
A beautiful girl had to go, throw away the life she’d been given
All because she couldn’t bear to spend another day
Living in this terrible world, and so she went away

Don’t call her selfish for not bearing it out
She’s been living too long in this merciless drought
She’s probably better off now, anywhere but here
Rest in peace my darling; you have nothing more to fear

It took them enormous courage
To wake up every morning and put their uniform on,
To practice their best smile in front of the mirror,
To go a whole day feeling like an absolute misfit.
The fear of being judged had sealed their innocent lips,
Their ability to converse was almost nonexistent.
Their opinion? It had disappeared into thin air.
The sorrow in their beautiful eyes narrated stories never to be uttered,
Their souls were painted in colors of normalcy – just like you and me.
It’s not that they didn't try to be ‘one of them’
But that, they were terribly misunderstood.
Here’s to those ‘misfits’, to those ‘outcasts’ –
Without you all, there would be dogs that wouldn't be loved in this chaotic world.
Without you all, the libraries in schools would be inanimate – you give it life with every page you turn.
Without you all, there would be music unheard of.
Without you all, there would be a world filled to its rim with pretence.
If you ask me,
Life is not about the long run,
It’s about taking each moment as it comes.
To me, you've made it through many such moments – YOU did it.
You might be wounded and scarred,
But remember no battle was won without battle scars.
You are unparalleled,
But sometimes you seem to forget – just take a look inside and you will see the magic you can create.

We are old souls
Trapped in young bodies.
And I wonder,
When can we ever be
free?

There is a child walking on the street,
by her own, begging for something to eat.
Hundreds are passing by daily,
none paying attention to her, all ignoring little Bailey.

After a long day of begging and pleading,
she lays down in her cardboard mansion, which is not even near pleasing.
Hours go by as she thinks about her life,
no family, no friends, not even some place she could rent.

What does it mean To be loved?
No parents, no siblings; is there really someone above?
She wonders why she had been the one left alone,
seven years, with no one to hold.

Love..does it exist?
Maybe in a husband, a pet, or a kid.
''But who would accept me like this?''
No foster family, no orphanage; I'm just a Misfit.

Here's a story about how she's gone:

Once she said she doesn't fit anymore
Again she said she had been trying for too long
Thought someone would understand her but there was none
So she run, run, run and found herself running alone
She's wondering about her friends and parents and all
Her thoughts started to fill her mind and making herself drown
Drowning her down, down, and down

Anger and rage started to consume
Making herself looks like a fool
Realising she's just a burden
For her friends, parents, and all

She started to run, run, run and found an empty room
Inside there's a desk, chair, knife, and writing tools
She then begin to sit down
And tried to remember all her misfortunes
All her problems and insecurities
She's never going to fit in this huge world with perfect people
That was what's on her mind

Her trembling hands began to write
She was feeling more free and light
After what she had done

Looking at her body from above
She smiles so bright
She had write what needs to be written
Only a straight line on her skin
Straight through her vein
With red ink, leaving stain everywhere
And that was what she write; her own death

And that's the story about how she had gone.

I often miss,
the mix of
smoke
and ***
on your tongue.

The way
you smelled,
like smoke
and spice.

And how cute
you looked
in your high state.

You are a misfit,
that fit perfectly
into my heart.

Amongst the multitude of solitudnal whims
I carry within,
Down to you, forgotten.
A youth that's fighting,
refusing to succumb to the delicacies
of an aging core.
The dream of love renewed,
The ambiance of it.
The life of a thousand nights of falling star
wishes and programmed dreams.
A chance within our grasps.
Mirrors.

Desolately has my soul resided in this
phantasmal reality of dull referendum,
misunderstood.
Neglected, rejected, tortured, hurt,
and broken.
I remain hidden.
A cool calm collected exterior.
The world sees me,
or so it thinks.

Hilarious hideousness.
My deceptions so simple.
Smoke and mirrors, magician I am.
Humor the powerful blinding agent
of stares, opinions, and gossip.
I laugh internally as the world judges me.
Forms its superficial egotistical
repressed opinions of me.

Do you..... see me true?
Can you.....will you ever chose to?
Demonic presence ever near, trying to **** me.
Have I fear?.........No, I have no fear!

© Crystal Erickson  11/24/07