A tormented soul.
Outcasted by his own blood.
Neglected and shunned by society.
Misunderstood by all those around him.
He hangs his head low,
but he is not depressed.
He lives in his fantasy world,
a dry, hot place, where he fits in
with those who know him best;
demons, dragons, haunted souls alike.
Jagged rocks jut from the burned tundra.
He walks the halls and streets,
long hair tangled and clumsily pulled back.
Tattoos on his hands, loops in his ears
blackest of night glasses, hiding his dead stare.
Drawing timid glances from pom poms and preps,
prom queens and muscle heads,
receiving condescending looks from utopian neighbors.
He does not see them.
He is buried away, deep in his accepting home.
Thriving on being the black sheep,
honored to be the ugly duckling.
He pierces with that dead stare;
Ice cold, unforgiving.
They dare not speak to him,
afraid the beast he holds inside will be unleashed;
Swallow you whole.
But he smiles.
He lives off of your fear.
He would never harm a hair on anyone.
Only he's the only one who knows that.
Think twice before you judge that neglected,
outcasted, misunderstood person.
He could be
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