*Am the one you would walk pass and not give a second glance. Am the one you might look at but not really see. Am the one your parents would advice about, and your sister would defend you from. Am the one people would judge and dare not understand. Am the one you would reject and detest. Am the one you would hurt and not care about. Am the one. Am the one a teacher could send out and a parent would be weary of. Am the one you would judge with your eyes and despise with your heart.
Am the one in the front row,other times the back row. Am the one in the middle row afraid to lift her head up, afraid to listen, afraid to of the whispers and the stares am the one you consider an outcast.*
Treenie looked at the paper proud of what she had written down. She loved writing. The ink on the paper seems to call her, they were alive to her. She wished she could write her own life and decide how it would end but life wasn't like a novel you have your destiny in your Hands. The pen and paper was provides but how to write that was the the problem indeed she an outcast just like her poem, even to life