We roam the halls as if they were battlegrounds.
Using words as weapons, which raze our skin, making us bleed insecurities
We are told to cover up our insecurities ,
When some of us rather let them bleed.

Let it bleed said the girl who was not “fit” for society.
She had a dress size too big
And a bra size too small.
We are molded to fit in but yet she didn’t fit the mold.
She was raised upon the words not good enough.

Not good enough was what the boy thought he was, for every girl he had love he lost…
Each time he fell for one nicer but each time it would hurt more than the last.
Not only was he not good enough for them but for himself.

Each kid their own player in this game, each one fighting their own war.
But yet, in the halls we mask ourselves and divide ourselves in groups “to be or not to be” because yes this time it is the question that at first we choose to answer ourselves but then it is chosen for us.