This is a "freeform" poem. There is no rhyme scheme, it is a set of words written into lines, that are meant to be read in the smoothness of a poem.
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Glasses and a permanent scar in the shape of a star on the bridge of their nose.
Shaking hands that can barely hold a pencil, let alone type.
Palms too small, fingers too long, for holding.
Tiny nose, tiny mouth, too many freckles.
One eye, slightly bigger than the other, gray-brown in colour.
A stutter when public speaking and a squinty gaze.
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Ugly, Society crows between giggles, ugly.
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Two left feet and old, muddy shoes to boot.
A crooked smile, not cute, gap-toothed with too thin lips.
Covered in golden dog hair constantly,
Scratches and pockmarks lining their arms and legs and hands.
They blame it on the dog; Society doesn't know them enough to do anything but nod.
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A snort-wheeze laugh that dissolves into coughing after thirty seconds.
Don't laugh again, Society says sternly, it doesn't sound good.
Okay, they echo, it doesn't sound good.
So they stop laughing, and smiles fade into frowns.
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The only solaces they find is in their own shaky hands, holding a pencil to paper, or fingers to keyboard.
They turn to their own imagination, building stories out of wayward thoughts.
Universes, created in the span of a second.
One Google Doc turned into seven, to fifteen.
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Their grades slipped, from all As, to Bs, to Ds.
They never failed, of course.
They were smart enough for that, but never smart enough for their parents.
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Music guided them through struggles, the feeling of slippery brass under hand keeping them sane when nothing else would.
Worlds built and written by their own hands kept them stabilized when parents screamed, words dissolving into bubbles that just...
Popped, fading away into nothing.
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Music, to keep them company.
Characters, to talk to when the nights got too dark and nightmares kept sleep at bay.
They fought, tooth and nail, sword and shield, for their sleep.
Insomnia had them in its grasp, a sharp, feral thing that didn't take no for an answer.
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One pill became two, became four, became eight.
Sleep eluded them still.
Music was a thing of the past, their spark was gone.
Worlds crumbled to ash, burnt beneath the heavy weight of Society's eyes.
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They crumbled. To pieces, falling down and down like Theseus.
Society didn't care, why should they?
Everything they had strived for, gone in a blink of an eye.
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No.
Not the blink of an eye.
Gone over the course of a week, a month, a year.
Everything had corrupted beneath their very feet and they were so distracted trying to please Society, they didn't notice.
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Down they fell, like Icarus.
Wax melted by the scorching gaze of Society,
falling down into the cold embrace of depression in a flurry of feathers.
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An empty pill container under their pillow, a knife in the drawer.
Bloodstained sheets, dripping fresh crimson onto the floor.
One cut, two cut, till they couldn't feel no more.
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Too deep?
Nah, not deep enough.
So they pushed harder, skin breaking beneath the sharp of the blade, hacking at muscle.
If anyone asked the next day, they laughed and said;
"I'm fine, it's just my cat."
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They didn't have a cat.
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But then a miracle in the form of a link came.
A chatroom, built for those with overactive imaginations and nowhere to put it.
People like them, people who had it better, people who had it worse.
People who were shunned by Society, just like them.
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Just like them, just like them.439Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡliObeFOrlo
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Salvation came in the form of a singular word;
"Hello!"
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And suddenly they didn't have to care anymore.
The cuts on their arms did not heal, but did not worsen.
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They found solace in pixels on a blue background. Pixels with names, pixels with no faces.
Silly, sweet Rose, who loved cats more than herself.
Goofy Raven, Rae, a genderfluid fiasco with a heart better than gold and an undying love for them.
Caring, always there Adrien, their best friend. 439Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQTRwWnlw6G
Their closest friend, they liked to think. Who gave them daily reminders on how much they loved them, how much they meant to them. They would go to the ends of the fucking earth for them, for everyone here.
Dahlia, their fellow band nerd and chaos gremlin, who never failed to be happy at seeing them online.
Chandler, someone with problems galore but they never let that get them down. They loved Chandler, their (platonic) husband, married for the shits and giggles.
Midnight, not as often online, but a pleasant surprise when he did, with plenty of jokes for them to giggle about.
Disney, who never failed to bring a smile to their face, was the only one they had seen the face of.
Arty, who disappeared one day but they will always miss.
So many people, hidden behind a screen but there, always there.
They loved them, with every piece of their shattered heart.
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Society no longer existed for them.
A world of werewolves and vampires, of humans and curses, of lore and plot, was their new reality.
They didn't need anything else.
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Pills stopped looking so appetizing, the knife in the drawer stayed away.
The pool in the backyard didn't look so inviting, the scars stayed scars.
The dog stopped being blamed.
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They had friends.
No.
Not friends.
A family.
And now they were alive, and would stay alive for as long as fate permitted, just to say "Hello!" to one more person.
Hopefully, their story will be similar to mine.
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