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Misfit Toy
Call me a misfit,
Cause I'm done being your toy.
I refuse to stay,
And I’m done the play,
Cause i’m not your barbie,
So you can't cut my hair,
Or tell me what to wear.
Sorry to bare the bad news,
But I'm done.
I’m done letting you use the shards left from the abuse,
Because glass is made from sand.
And no,
I don't want to hold your hand.
Are you even willing to try to understand?
I’m tired of the buts and and.
So now let me understand,
What do you get from raising your hand?
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This poem is to represent all of the people who have stood up to the abuse. It is also for the people who are still going through it. It also coveys how I feel the need to understand why people tend to do this type of thing.