When your alone the fear creeps back reminding you, your alone, no one knows, the pain inside, just wanting to meet one who understands what its like to be tagged, and to be the only one with the tag, some genetic mutation not inherited, in a sea of people you, the mutation almost like your a science project gone bad. The stares, the words all blending into one word, not remembering all that is said forgetting the important words conversations slipping not remembering lost.
My reflection can't bear to look me in the eye. Dirt bag. They called me **** bag because they couldn't see a sack of ****. Thoughtlessly counter-intuitive. Rhyming is worse than mediocre, and beyond being forced into the sublime. Blind folded and arms tied, with salvation on it's lips; Maniacally insane. A campaign for liars, killers, and something divine. I never had a beautiful dream, or a nightmare that wasn't in color. I'm unprepared for everything, especially whatever comes next.