To the misfits, the outcasts, the broken and the scarred

You’re lonely in a room full of people. You watch companionship from a distance and feel empty arms embrace you. Sometimes a single tear, sometimes a torrent, rushes down your hallow cheeks and stings your bruised lips. As you walk by rows of perfect people, you hang your head but still feel their stinging eyes … Continue reading To the misfits, the outcasts, the broken and the scarred

Marks of Hope

I thought it would get easier as time went by. But I’m still a freak show. Children point and whisper, a few even whimper and begin to cry. Sometimes people laugh and crack cruel jokes. Most just walk past quickly with their heads down and pretend not to have seen me. Everywhere I go, the store, the movies, church even, I’m an outcast – avoided and overlooked. I make people uncomfortable by the skin that I’m forced to live in every moment of every day.