Full of of judgment and ripe with derision,
They spoke of how you surrounded yourself with us,
Those They thought of as better, perferrable maybe.
But who you knew were hurting
In need of something.
We who lacked,
i suppose
The semblance of normality our peers seemed to posess.
And yet, They never saw it that way.
To Them you put yourself out for the 'cool kids'
you tried too hard to be a part of the 'in crowd'
(and how it ever came to be that i found myself labeled with such a moniker
will forever be a mystery), but
For whatever reason, you sought me out
Brought me in
Made me safe.
And if, in Their defense,
You did collect friends...
At least one was made, that is forever in your debt.
I still remember Their faces, even recollect most of their names,
Those who said...
"Yeah, she collects friends"
And the keen piercing seed of resentment starts to take hold because i think,
It wasn't your hand you died by.
It was Theirs.
