What's an outcast?
Outcast am I?
What's an outcast?
Outcast are you?
What's an outcast?
Outcasts are we all?
What's an outcast?
Lonesome is an outcast.
Where is an outcast?
Outcasts are everywhere.
Outcasts are different.
What's an outcast?
Relegated to the shadows where we cannot grow
into who we would have been
the person we were meant to be
We see the hazy glow of daylight in the distance
yet the sun never dawns for us
despite the desperation of our prayers and pleas
to know what it is to belong
to be wanted
deemed worthy
The velvet black veil of night descends on us
Doomed to darkness
Condemned to the cold corners of existence
Left off the guest list
Denied entry
Peeking through window panes in the pouring rain
as we listen to the lilt of laughter
from within where we are not welcome
Our fire growing dim
hearts hardening like mahogany
we morph into monsters
callous and cantankerous
We outcasts dwell in our own special hell
“Where was God,” you ask, “when I needed Him?
When I felt cast out and all alone? Spurn'd
by my peers for being poor!? All I learn'd,”
you persist, “is that here people condemn
you for just being different, too. To them,”
you add with rage, “I'm a threat to be burn'd,—
a rival to be attacked and overturn'd!”
“So it was, too, for One born in Bethlehem,
My Child,” a Voice comforts. “He was alone
as a child, as well—and very unique.
But like Him, the last shall be first (in death);
and the first (in life) shall be last. For none
who are My Children shall be mocked—so speak
I and command,” swore It, “with solemn breath!”
When the Outcasts Meet the Runaways
When the outcasts meet the runaways,
and the rejects meet the lost.
All those who feel stepped on,
all those society tossed.
When the odd ones lift the fallen, and the fallen rise up strong.
All those who feel unwelcome,
all those who dream to belong.
When the kind hearts meet the broken,
and the quiet scream their name
All those who are united,
all those crazy’s meet their sane.
As the crows fly
They come to pick out my eyes
Discerned is thy nebulous sight
I must clash with night
The wounded warrior's cry
Essence made to rally this fight
Strengthened is my revived might
The elegy of white,
Outcasts the night
Do you know a people who was treated rotten?
Do you still see those who are now forgotten
With all the priests creeping, the agents acting all tweaky
The feds are wondering what rewards will be reaped
Words all deep; enter the white freak with all the abuse to teach
Like when it happened at Meech or when the white paper was out of their reach
Caught the white man at work without any pants
Should've learned to never give the red man a chance
Whether you're wearing a sash or breast plate beaded brass
You'll pass cause they'll have to take it out to the last
So what do you tell the white superior
When they see you're not inferior
All you see is a tweaker when a drum beat comes
When our culture pulsates and leaves you numb
Out goes the residential dream
Here our grass is still green our water flows in a stream
Tried to trick with a white word
It's absurd how this treatment first occurred
In the end all will be heard
I stand here before a great host
and they truly know me
I stand against you
and I know longer have your love and I stand here procliaming that I do not want it
and as the sun rises, I see my people
stirring and know they are me
outcasts from love
outcasts from your love
my blood boils, knowing you hold back
what we deserve, what is rightfully ours
I stand here and smile
I smile with bloodlust and revenge
in my heart,
we march against you
we are your downfall, your destruction
we come, we fight
you matter not because we are
dead to you
we resist you, your outcasts
you perish
outcast from our love
Father, I am your demise and i am comming
They watch from
Their place in school.
No one notices.
No one cares.
They are alone
In the big world.
Watching life unfold.
Not experiencing for themselves.
Sad
Lonely
Misunderstood
They try to break through the glass
Separating them from
The rest of the world.
But it is unbreakable.
So they stand and watch.
Miserable
They are the outcasts.
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