A sapling branch lay wilting, slightly bent
Towards the sun it tries but it slowly dies under the mighty oak
The sap is the outcast and the oak the protector

Young girl lye crying by her newborn
They were left beaten and mangled
That poor child died due to her father’s outrage
The mother died in spirit
And the father went berserk

In the stalls of the restroom a teen is left for dead
He ponders what his life is worth
And figures they were right
No point I have here they said
That saying left him dead
Only a friend he wished for
But they had better things to do

All of their stories, dreadful tales
The outcast and the problem
Help they were seeking
But none received
Not all stories have to end that way
Just be a friend and ask what’s wrong