The rejection… it hurts. No, not of romance.

The rejection of friends to hang or to talk.

They don't mean to hurt, cuz it's no big deal,

They don't know it's written in pen, not in chalk.


I need them, maybe too much,

but since my family is little help,

I rely on friends, to let my get by,

Though how I feel like a useless whelp.


I'm scared they'll get tired,

Afraid I'll be a bore,

Or to make them mad,

And still, what is more,


This fear is the thing,

It surely must be,

That is actually annoying,

How can I break free?


I wish sometimes, faintly and weak,

That simply I didn't care,

But that is not the truth, it is too cold,

Such a wish I wouldn't dare.


It hurts to be here, so what is the point?

You wouldn't know if you were gone.

So why do I stay, if it matters not?

Cuz perhaps someday, I'll belong.


Some things do help, distraction is bliss,

And for these things do I remain,

For if I was gone, I wouldn't be here,

To regret it, or feel the pain.