To The Introverts

Outcast

As I sat in the middle of the chosen,
Enwrapped by the shadowy masses of shame,
It wasn't my fault I wasn't welcome.

As they breathed,
Talked,
And moved in the same manner as I,
I would never be anything like them.

Paying witness to the stings in my heart,
The sparks of fear crackled,
My skin tingled,
From the shivers crawling up and down my spine,
My lips curled in disgust,
At the tears streaming down my shameless face,
With every dent at the wall of my self-esteem,
And the cages of my mind.

The sound of my soul breaking,
With every laughter that filled the air,
While they stood across the room,
Separated from the darkness I come forth with,
Turning to look at the mirror,
I cried as it told me,
"No one seeks the person you've become. Rip it all away dear one."

Seated by the edges,
Of the welcoming cliff,
Staring at the deep end below,
Calling out to me,
With its sweet sultry voice,
Like a broken mantra,
And the bones to my fingers,
So tense and wound up,
Tapped with rage at the broken screen.

Blood rushing in my veins,
Whispering as it smiled,
"Look, they've forgotten. The entirety of your existence."
Swiftly forcing my neck to turn,
To be met with a sight,
Of them welcoming a new chosen,
How I wish,
It had been the same,
For the poor girl sitting in my place.