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The Poem of The Outcasts (So what?)



So what.

I wear baggy shorts.

So what.

I have short hair.

So what.

I like girls.

Why do you try and fit me in your mold.

I am not like you.

I can't help it.

I was born like this.

No one understands how much I go through.

Too much.

So what,

I don't paint my nails.

So what,

I don't have the same dreams as you.

So what,

I don't go to church.

People push me away.

I feel unwanted in the grips of their hateful eyes.

I love god.

But no one can see past the fact,

That I like girls.

Pushed away at school.


Few friends.

But they didn't understand.

Now out of college.


People are still people.

People like me are hated by people who don't know.

They don't know how it feels.

They don't know.

Why do people not understand that I am still a person.

I am just different.

So what?

Should you still love me,

For me?


So what,

I cut.

So what,

I listen to screamo.

So what,

I like colorful hair.

I go to therapy.

I go to rehab.

None of it helps.

I still bury my feelings deep within.

It would take too much to get out of me.

Scarred emotionally.

Scarred physically.

Scarrs on my wrists.

So what,

I make scars.

So what, 

I'm different.

So what,

I don't listen to you.

I am chained down to the bottom of the ocean,

with expections people expect me to follow.

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