It's there story, mostly said inside their souls.
Shouted out frequently in tumultuous thoughts,
Regrets of mostly who they're.
They want to disappear , I want to disappear
Just because am seen the other way.

Being misunderstood and put astray.
Being tagged aloof by the most sly,
Mostly think they made it
And see us as high.
Yet we've not been read.

We're through the earths rough cliffs,
Rough edges and desperate scoffs,
Through their unfunny jokes, bluffs
And stereotype jokes of rough
Misunderstanding and being unread.

The pain is inflicted on its highest qualities,
Jokes tearing through our jokes,
Like bullets,
And then melt down our confidence,
Of our hidden rich souls, no offence.
They say, you feel me, you have been there.
You evidence this,
They're not to blame
But to correct.
Not to misunderstand, and unread.