The Leftovers

Oh, so it's you again.

I've been waiting for forever!

Good, you've figured out,

That we don't belong.

Goths wear black all the time,

Okay, I'll give you an A for effort.

But you don't really like black…especially in the summer?

Yes, I'm sweating too; we don't belong.

Punk's dress code is not quite so severe,

They like plaid, rainbows, and stripes.

Hmph, and to think you don't want to pierce your nose…

Then, I guess, we don't belong.

How about the jocks? They're pretty sharp.

Letter jackets, scholarships, trophies galore,

Yes, you do have a point: we are passing all of our classes.

Here too, we don't belong.

Straight As…by George, we could be nerds! The perfect bunch,

They're loyal, smart, and could definitely help with physics.

If you say so, but I don't think they have cooties…

Yet again, we don't belong.

I'll skip the preps, the cheerleaders, the whores,

The dorks, the geeks, the transvestites,

The gays, the lesbians, the wannabe rock stars,

None of which we belong.

So where will we go?

Will we spend the rest of our High School days alone?

Wait, I think I know of a place where…yes!

Once and for all we WILL belong!

We'll for our own band, like Robin Hood, open to the lost,

We'll take in the depressed ballerinas, the stoners, the overworking yet underachieving,

Even the Bruce Lee look-alike…come one, come all!

Together as friends, we will ALL belong!