When people look at me
they are not sure of what they see
they point and laugh and stare
but i stay silent and just stand there
i don't not smile nor do i laugh
as these strangers take photographs
i won't listen or weep
i won't take to heart the words they speak
"look at her hair dyed bright red,
she looks like Elvira," is what they said
"her jeans are all worn
and her shirt is tattered and torn
all of those bracelets on her wrists
probably hide many slits
her laces have skulls on them and so doesn't her hat
what exactly is with that?
and the empty expression on her face
tells me she was ripped away from a warm embrace
is it death she awaits
could it be life that she hates?
if only she could've let go
but hey, what do i know?"
anger fills me and i defensively say
"since then, i have yet to see the light of day
my life is as cold, dark, and alone as night
but then again, maybe you're completely right."
