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Those Cruel Years
I bet, 
 you were the one they picked on
 in grade school.
 Pale from the cold,
 Unattractive hand-me-down covering
 Mottled, faded.
 Barren and flat.
 Bony fingers reaching.
 Glasses too.
 Always fogged up,
 Always crying.
 Loud though,
 an alarm of life
 after so much silence.
 You had to clean up 
 what he left behind.
 He was ruthless.
 So cold.
 Your skin cracked
 from feeble attempts
 of man holding him back.
 Brushing off
 what's left of him.
 In the mornings,
 when he sneaked in.
 You screamed and glared.
 It took him a few weeks 
 to realize
 he was done.
 But come puberty,
 and everything blossomed.
 But I leave your latter months to the romantics.

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Favorite Quote:
"Imagination overpowers knowledge" <33
Touches my sensative spot. xD
Love it