Misfits

Dark green beanie,

Black clunky glasses,

Do you know him?

You’ve probably seen him around school,

The “misfit,”

The kid who slams his locker shut,

A bit too hard,

And the boy who stumbles over his own feet.

There are others too,

You probably don’t notice,

Don’t even spare them a second glance.

Like the girl who is called “dirty,”

Because her clothes aren’t always washed,

Because her family doesn’t always have enough change,

To wash their clothes.

The boy from the chess club,

Who has austism,

And says what he thinks.

Honesty is a trait  they said,

That skipped our generation,

But not him.

He calls the girl from AP English,

“Beautiful,”

Because she once said hello,

And she always has,

One less cut on her arm,

Because of that.

Don’t call them mifits,

Or act like they don’t belong,

Because the only person who doesn’t belong,

Is you.

Because you are so insercure,

That making them hurt,

Is the only way,

You feel like you truly belong.

They,

And the other loners of the school,

Are not the mifts,

You and others like you are,

Because you will never gain confidence,

That you suck from others.

 

 

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