What You've Made

Nobody likes you. No one wants you. You're mocked, threatened, resented. So out of society that you are avoided like a leper.

So you go the other way.

Into the bad you sink. Drugs and alcohol. Cigarettes and stolen cash. Scars and wounds mark your skin, blood like water. It pours, seemingly infinite. The scars on your mind though, those are what stay. The fact that you have a gang, and yet not one friend, hurts.

But the fact that your so empty, and you can't even feel the hurt, is what scares me.

Life of a rebel, life of mine.

And the people who spurned you mock you. Now your bad. Now your wrong.

But the hypocrites don't see how they made me this way.