deepundergroundpoetry.com

The outcasts.

They sit at the back of class alone,
they carve their names into the desks
so that one day,
someone will actually know they existed.
They don't speak unless they need too,
their voice is void of all emotion
all because you caused them so much hurt
they had to learn not to feel.
They walk through the streets and hallways
attempting to blend into the shadows-
always praying you don't notice them
or there's Hell to pay.
While their hearts are empty
their minds are full of your hateful words,
They have no one in the world to love
and no one to love them in return.
As if their feeling weren't enough
you've stripped them of all hope,
each day is filled with hate
and the next is filled with pain.
They are broken and defeated
their empty shells are what makes your throne,
tell me, will it ever be enough
or do you need a whole damn castle?
Take a look into the outcasts eyes and you will see
the void where life once lay,
now all that's left
is sorrow and despair.
One day, he didn't come to school
and I sat at his desk-
I found over a dozen names with several scratched out with dates carved next to them.
The very last name on the list was his
and it was scratched out with yesterdays date carved in next to it.
The title of the list said in all capitals-
THE OUTCASTS.
FallenAngle
Written by FallenAngle (TheQueenOfTheDark)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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