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I am the whisper in the dark that you wake up to with no one there. I am the slow creeping hand on your shoulder that is felt and unseen. I am the one spit of gray on the masterpiece of color. I am the lonely dog on the street while the rest are loved. I am the one unbearable flaw in a world of perfection. I am that dead, lifeless leaf on the ground, banned from the tree of equals and perfection. I am the lone wolf who wanders the land searching for a meaning. I am the old doll in the dusty, dark corner of your closet, who has served it’s purpose and is tossed aside for boredom and loneliness. Left only with tears and a broken heart. I am that one loud, obnoxious toy in your room that will never turn off no matter what you do. For I am hurt.