Live in the shadows
And flee from the sun,
An army of rebels
Marching as one.
Mingle your voice
With the other outcasts,
Your single goal
Is to simply outlast.

No one is perfect
Or expected to be
Unless you happen to share a gene or two with this sort
And as if their generation was completely right
(the pattern of perceived perfection is a long lineage)
They pass their judgment
One generation to the next
The gossip makes its way across state lines
The tale of manipulation and corruption
Bred within our borders
Finds its place with mythical tales
Of mobsters and cat burglars
On cops

You work your magic
Sweet-talking people out of money
Not even Satan’s speech was so smooth
Talent for memorizing numbers
Credit card
Pin
But not your grandmother’s
Stuns all
If she knew of your antics
Pallbearers would have a heavy load
But fear not
Keeping secrets from the old and feeble
Is our talent

He walked around the crowded streets, streets filled with party goers and drunken teens
He didn’t know where he was going, his mind housed those gruesome images
Replaying in his head over and over again
It was a Friday night, although it really didn’t matter because he never had plans regardless of the day
He had bigger things that he had to mentally face
A psychological sciamachy if you will– an imaginary enemy that he wanted….no needed to ****.
It left his mind all dark and dreary, filled his heart with raging fury
And he couldn’t understand why or how he got like that.
In school he was the definition of a social outcast, not fit to be amongst the cherished few
but if only they knew because the biggest outcast in the school
Was also the strongest, for if they were to even attempt to take on his struggles
I doubt any of them would still be alive to tell their story
But back to that night out on the streets, the night he was stuck walking aimlessly
He ended up on top a roof..staring up at the clear black sky admiring its site, not one star visible because of the bright city lights
He didn’t care, he was caught in some trance
Even with his glossed eyes you wouldn’t really know the state he was currently in at first glance
Cold and disheveled he had nothing else left, he was alone even with the dozens of people next to, behind and ahead of him
Stepped on the edge of the building and whispered “Its already broken”
The ones who were once strong sometimes fall

And he was one of them.

I am odd
Some would say
But not to me
Living here in my own skin
My castle of bones
Listening to words
Beating like my heart
Some would say
I am odd
But not to me