.+. Ode to Emo .+.
Of course I believe you, dear.
Those scratches along your wrists?
The ones that aren't deep enough to bleed?
I mean...
I know, dear, I know.
You say your suffering builds.
And claws your bruised and oh so battered soul.
What's that, you say, dear?
You've failed at life!
Tragic!
And you don't fit in?
Horrendous.
Dear, you'll find comfort away from
The black hair swept across your forehead
And thick black-rimmed glasses
Through which you see your world fall apart at the seams.
The beaten up shoes that you've walked through hardships in.
The sad lonely songs.
Your salvation, dear, will lie in
The thought that you'll fit in with the others.
The others like you, dear.
There are more like you, dear.
Let us feel our sympathy and pray this makes you happy, dear.
I know it scares me to death.