Sometimes I have hope that I will be accepted,
No longer the pariah, without a reason to be blissful,
That I could walk alone yet knowing someone out there,
Someone that cares, someone that comprehended my loneliness,
I lost my guardian angel and my only companion by my side,
Yet he left me a hallowed gift to endure this infinite verve,
He gave me a russet box swathed with scarlet pearls,
Each pearl was tainted with his immaculate blood,
The box contained his tear drops each were cobalt blue,
These tears he shed for me as I should not shed mine,
He said these tears will never fade absent from my side,
It exemplified my strength despite being disregarded,
Despite being the recluse never knowing what love is,
Despite never being cared about, those azure tears will remain,
Until forlornly the tears trickled to the ashen marble floors,
His precious tears and my preceding ounce of hope gone,
Again I will exist in abhorrence hatred shrouding me,
I will never be noticed mutely I immerse in my own grief,
I am nothing but an inert concealed behind the rest,
Comatose of the reality I will never be accepted,
They’ll gaze at me with sympathy ceaselessly,
Yet never grasping all I sought was to rupture out,
From this crust of solitude.