Pick me,

the wilted flower

calls out,

begging for some attention.

Look here,

the rainbow cries.

Find the pot of

gold.

The rotting apple,

turning brown,

doesn't want to be

garbage.

I'm not what I appear.

The forgotten smile

tries to break

the barrier of the

frown.

Hard and unyielding,

it will

not

bow down.

Ink trails,

left from the

broken

blue ballpoint pen,

running down the page

and creating a

puddle.

Smashed pumpkins,

left to die

on one sad

Hollow's Eve.

All they did was

smile,

but that alone is enough

to anger even the

feeble.

The moose head

on the wall

sighs to itself.

Rember the happy times,

when his brother

didn't die for our

sport.

And then

there,

I sit, alone.

Another forgotten,

another sad.

Another gone wrong,

another depressed.

And there,

I sit.

Hiding away,

waiting,

for someone to notice.

Waiting,

for someone to care.

And my brothers,

and my sisters,

the broken and lost,

wait along side

with me.

Alone,

with the loners.