The best of outcasts

Witch hazel heals the dark , But our dark wasn't in need of curing , In the garden of summer days flowers couldn't bloom for the soul , No matter how hard we tried it always ended up Black and blue , Sometimes the road was to long and we thought we couldn't make it to the finish line , but we knew how life was and how jumping into the big ocean arms open would only leave to self Distaste. One count for the big giant take into life as a pitch blake soul that is called Life. Us outcasts look into the darker side of the world and combine it with the bright light, Our final words are Summertime isn't fun without the outcasts.

This poem is about: 
Me

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