"What, are you goth or something?"
"See. She is emo."
You've left me kneeling in the aisle way,
Picking up the pieces,
Picking up myself
While I'm cautious not to let a faucet run from my face
"Abby..Are you alright..?"
My history teacher...so kind, I absolutely adore her..
I tried to hold myself together as I made no effort to stop tears that raced down.
I just wanted to run..
"If you need to, you can go into the hallway.."
A shake of my head would tell her no, but if I could speak I'd say yes.
"Abby, you okay?!" Karina.. so polite
"What is i-oh..." Matthew, so clueless at times..
"Hey...Abby, are you sure you're okay?" ..no...
"What happened?" ...
It was only the same as ever.
Every passing day
Yet they don't see my tears, they wouldn't care anyways,
They're just one cause of my pain
You can call me emo.
You can yell "Goth".
You can label me fag.