The perfect person

As the thunder roared in the sky, the secretive boy sat in the road and waited.The patter of rain at his feet nor the sound of distant birds could could bring him out of this state.He was a stranger to the people who loved him, his parents. No one else took the time to look beyond his black, deep set eyes and mysterious white lips. He was different, who could argue?

 He herd a faint rumble emerging from the north. "here i'll wait," thought the boy."behind the trees and be patient, for heaven is my destiny" he always was a good boy, but society has its ways of molding and twisting us into different shapes.Behind his thick woolen jersey hid a boy so deep with anger. It is not entirely his fault he ended up this way, its you who should be feeling guilty for you pushed him every day. He was supposed to walk like everyone else, supposed to talk like you-but dont feel bad, its hardly your fault,its what society expects of you. After all, we're all expected to be perfect, but did you and your friends ever stop and wonder, if people are really people, witch we are, arent they supposed to be different? So what if im strange, should i really be labeled for this is what makes me...me. You watch this boy through your judgmental eyes you see that truck sprinting towards him. he rises to his hanches. As you're about to scream, he jumps. Into the road. In front of that large truck.

It was never his fault, its all on you. But dont feel bad, its what society tells you, its what society tells you.