Why I Write...

He hides behind a hood of black
Wears sunglasses so no one knows it’s him
On the outside he looks cold and emotionless
But on the inside he is hurting
He locks the door behind him as he enters
Reflecting on all of today’s failures
Draws the curtains closed to block the light
And begs for the day to turn to night
It’s been another day of being used, abused, and misguided
Whether he has real friends or not is undecided
Shunned from society for being too dark
His looks alone have made him a mark
He counts the scars that trail up his arm
Looks for something to keep him warm
He grabs a pen and starts to write from the heart
Something that sets him and the world apart
Suddenly a movement on the concrete face
A smile! And look at it as it picks up pace!
He has found a way to release his pent up emotion
And for tonight he sleeps in a bed and not a coffin