Beauty in the Lost

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I imagine.

I read the pages which harness imagination laid out upon my small hands.

You're wierd! You look funny! Why is your hair that way?

I scrawl stories in my notes; my pencil floating gracefully about the dead, bold faced letters.

Stop drawing on your work! What is wrong with you?

All the whispers snicker.

I am free to imagine.

 

Alone at last.

The thoughts can dissapate into the cold cornered shadows. 

No one to call me names, to think I'm weird, to pull my hair, to snicker and sneer.

Ugly, Stupid, Mistake, Creep, Loser, Friendless, Dissapointment, Waste, Pathetic, Fake.

No wonder you don't have any friends!

I hate you!

No more whispers in the stillness.

Alone at last.

 

I am not to be ignored.

They call me by my name, but never by My Name.

I am missunderstood, an outcast, feared by the people who know nothing.

But they don't know anything. 

They play games on me, they laugh at me, they tease me, they take my things,

They shove and push me around.

I am not to be ignored.

 

I am talented.

I use my art, show my strengths, write my stories upon the pages.

They can't take that from me.

Important, Positive, Helpful, Funny, Adventurous, compassionate, Creative, Loyal, Witty, Beautiful.

Beautiful.

I am not who they say I am. I am not a fragment of a person. I am beautiful. 

Do not believe the anger, do not listen to the hate. You are not fragmented. 

You are Beautiful.

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