Run. That’s all I want to do.
This hate I feel, that’s all there is.
Hate and be hated.

There’s a target, there’s always one.
That kid that others hate,
For their amusement, for their fun.

What could I have done?
Was being born that much a sin?
No one would miss the hated.

Not a father, he’s never there.
Not a mother, far too busy with the other child.
Never had any friends.


Time for me to run away, time to live my day.
There’s work to be done, fun to be had.
I love every day.

The oddly colored butterfly.
Never afraid of who sees.
My colors are my own.

A new experience every day.
Living it up and letting go.
I will learn from my past hatred.

Independent is how I choose to be.
With loving friends and family.
There will never be another me.