Burning embers, swirling stars,
one with nature, one with scars.
Colors flying from left and right,
turning black and out of sight.

Paranoia starts to take hold,
never have I felt so bold
as to tell a story long untold.

Many people see the edges
but never do they lift their heads
or set their sights on the undead.
Not zombies, vampires, or fairy-tale things,
but the dark-eyed young that mob the streets.

The teens that once started pure,
but fight repeatedly for a cure-
as unhappiness and misfortune make their mark,
these adolescents get left in the dark.
So fighting, and I'll say I know,
they look for colors to help them grow.

But in a misfortune that can grab all things,
chemicals pick at and ruin dreams.

He could've been something, you know.
The young guitarist on the corner of 2nd and Row.
Mad talent, mad skills, that he'll never know.

Although it is what he possesses,
all that he knows are the stresses,
placed upon him by society;
the people, the media, that won't even look and see,
are the same that judge good people so harshly.

Now take a minute, and think this through,
my words are far from what's untrue.
For I was one, of who I speak,
and have seen first hand some awful things.

When the colors that are sought fall through,
life turns into an ugly hue
of a dreary gray on a sun-filled day
that reaps the fruits of enmity.
So why then, do we feel the need,
to bag on those who just can't see,
and were never told what they could be?

To put it simply, if my meaning is to be even lightly grasped,
judgments only harden the task.
When there is nowhere else to turn-
when thoughts sizzle, and ideas burn,
what are we to expect in turn?
No, if we are to help the ones in need,
we together need to grasp some things.

Not all who live on the streets are bad;
not all who go to school aren't sad.
And although stereotyping goes both ways,
it's always best just to stay away.
Now let's pretend, just for a second,
that no one's image is cause for disrespect.

Before we act on what we think we see,
we should try to understand both sides of the same story.
If then and only then do our harsh words remain true,
at least we might sympathize with the sorrows too;
that which seems to be our culture's glue.

Even the simple truth of the matter,
can help define the problematic ladder.
The higher up we climb, the farther down we see,
the more we get, the more we think we need.
A simple matter transformed into controversy.