Dear world,

Because I am a martyr, I am a sinner, I am a liar, I am a friend.

I am a writer, I am an artist, I am an outcast, I am the end.

I am a voice, I am a thought, I am a wound, I am a wrist.

I am their eyes, I am their blood, I am their mind, I am their fist.

My name does not matter, my status is unknown.

I merely send a message for those who are lost and not shown.

These people I shall stand for, they're the lost, they're the found.

These people are the sinners, who all should be crowned.

I think for the mindless; the ones filled with fear.

The children that are scared to know, bullied with a sneer.

I feel for the numb ones; the scarred that are pained.

They felt too much hurt, kept blank to be sane.

I speak for the voiceless; the teens who have no words.

They're scared of rejection, too afraid to be heard.

I fight for the injured; those who have lost.

They rose in defiance, and then payed the cost.

These children are the outcasts, the great minds yet unseen.

They're smarter than the others, yet their hands are never clean.

From their lips come great poems, their fingers bring us art.

Their brains create wonder, and they teach from the heart.

Yet why are they unheard? Cast aside, marked as strange.

These children dared to dream, and got lost on the way.

The world gives them labels, they aren't like the rest.

Yes, these people are not "normal", but that's what makes them best.

So fight for these people, this future, our friends.

We can all be different, break the stupid trends.

Be unique to who you are, and your brilliance deep inside.

And if we are defeated, at least we'll say we tried.

Because I am a martyr, I am a sinner, I am a liar, I am a friend.

I am a writer, I am an artist, I am an outcast, I am the end.

I am a voice, I am a thought, I am a wound, I am a wrist.

I am their eyes, I am their blood, I am their mind, I am their fist.