Funny thing is that I have been hurt before, but I hurt myself the most, way more than anyone has hurt me.
My name is Rowan. I am treated like a waste of space, the kid you snob at in the hallway.
Your world doesn’t include me. I am the flower that is loose with no support system.
While your seeds are rooted in one another, I am the one with flimsy limbs, a soul that drifts like a floret.
Going to school is an onion to the eye; it hurts that no one can see or hear me.
The only person that saw me, left me.
Sebastian didn’t want to be stuck with a nobody, looking like a six year old walking around with an imaginary friend.
If I am of fiction, how come I am not perfect?
My heart has been stomped on and I feel like the fuel for your hate fire, dragging me to hell and back.
I want someone to catch me before I blow away forever.