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That awkward boy in the corner.
He walks oblivious through the school halls,
His arms are crossed in front of him like a shield,
A shield to block out the pain hidden in these whitewashed walls,
His backpack is slung across his back, weighing him down,
Amongst other things.
If you look closely you can see the tears in his downcast eyes,
His shoulders aren't hunched from the weight of his books.
No, they're burdened by the fears he dons like a burial shroud,
So he stays away and keeps his head down, ignoring their looks,
Where others have friendships and love, this boy has spaces,
Screaming teachers and bullies clamor in his dreams, with hollow faces.
This world it holds nothing for him, but in his mind he is free,
In his mind he is not an outcast, in his mind, he is not me.
But he does not live in his mind. Reality has never been kind,
It deals out impossible hands and leaves the good ones for you to find,
But this boy, he finds none. So every night he writes under the stars,
For they are his only friends, the words and stars. They reach out to him through steel bars.
They comfort him. But each day the sun rises and they leave,
Just like everything else. The pain is a constant, but he feels it none,
His lips run red with his own blood, and his side it aches from kicks and blows,
The fear and pain, it consumes his body and craves him whole,
It threatens to engulf him, to damage and blacken his soul.
This boy he's covered in the darkness, smothered by it.
His world is cruel, filled with dreadful blackened souls,
And they march on his hopes and dreams, filling them with a million holes,
Escape is ephemeral, like everything, and everything crashes down eventually,
This world it holds nothing for him, so in his mind he makes his own,
In his mind he has friends, and in his mind, there is no pain at all,
The whitewashed walls are empty, and he has the stars and words for company,
In his mind there is no pain and he is free.
In his mind, he is no longer me.
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