When her shields are assaulted,
By homophobic slurs,
And cruel words thrown in her direction.
When her cold heart starts to break
And even arrogance, and an air of superiority,
Cannot protect her.
When exhaustion
Born of many months of standing strong
Glazes her eyes like a porcelain doll,
Music becomes a barrier,
Of antisocial intent,
And loneliness.
She needs protection,
But all she has,
Is a pair of large, black headphones,
And years of practice,
At pretending not to care.

All she wants,
Is a quiet moment:
A place where she can be herself,
And not be ridiculed.
And they can't even give her that.
Is it really too much to ask?
She blasts the music too loud,
And the sound assaults her eardrums.
It hurts, but not as much as the words it conceals.
The screaming and the crashing drums,
Are her silence.
The pain is her peace.

She is sick.
The doctor says she isn't,
But the doctor is lying.
Her pride in her brilliance,
Is destroying her.
The words she endures
Are a cancer that is eating away,
Everything she might have been.
All that is left,
Is her selfish desire for a better world,
And eyes that refuse to cry.

When she is shoved in the hall,
And her body falls to the ground,
What will protect her?
When the shell that hides her fear,
Is broken.
When THEY have sucked the essence from her,
Like parasites, feeding on her misery.
When heavy metal,
And a steel guitar,
Are not enough,
What then?
Just another teenager, drifting.
Floating,
In a metaphoric pool of blood.
And those useless, broken
Headphones.