Outcast

And in the end, there is nothing, nothing more than the silent, empty, cold reality of death. No more tears, no more pain, no more suffering… Just the empty reality of a pain-filled existence now come to pass. Laid to rest in the cold, hard ground in the middle of winter, while the only ones who cared about you try to tell others how much they cared about you, but you know the truth: it was a lonely existence with half-hearted lovers who want to leave but don’t want to disappoint, backstabbing people who called themselves your best friends, and depression so strong that days and nights blended together so well that you couldn’t tell whether it was nearing dawn or dusk.. Yeah, one of those existences, where you can’t tell down from up, right from wrong, and good people from the bad, the worst.. Where being the odd one out results in a life of isolation and solitude, when all you ever wanted was for someone to just hold you when you couldn’t hold yourself together any longer.. But there is no one. There was never someone. No arms will comfort you when you’re born to be an outcast….