Rudolph

Dreams of the lights. In his daydreams he's a smooth talker, a punk rocker,
But the fantasy is broken when the jerks at school lock him into his locker.
Sleepy suburbia - his family loves him but he's left cold, he's a sleep walker.
He tears up his poems because no one cares about the feelings he's expressed,
And they tear up his heart because they're too busy to know that he's depressed.
Repressed. Lock it up in your head, because nothing needs to be addressed.
He finds joy in horror movies and in music, because it's a relief from the pain
And he locks himself up inside of his own head to escape the mundane
With daydreams of the fame and the money, and those dreams keep him sane.
He's an insecure person, a lonely person, a quiet person, a sad person,
A hide-the-pain person, a don't-wind-up-like-that-kid-over-there person,
A loner person - Rudolph syndrome that only a red nose could worsen.
He looked inward at himself his whole life because it's all that he had,
And he tried looking out for other people before, but could only see the bad
And I'm going to stop this poem right here because it's making me mad.............

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