You think you know me.

I'm the one who stands against the cold, hard lockers as you pass by with all your excellence and glory.

I'm the one who melts into the shadows, hiding from your scrutinizing stare and ever-present judging eye.

I'm the one who cowers as you point, who cries as you laugh, who dreams of what you already have.

You think you know me.

I am the one who is everything you're not.

I am the one who sits alone.

I am the one who has no name.

You think you know me.

I'm the one who has nothing to lose and everything to gain, while gaining everything is the last thing I would ever expect to do.

I'm the one who walks down the halls, praying to be invisible and, at the same time, begging God to be noticed.

I'm the one who goes home everyday and cries because I have no one who will ever love me the way I want to be loved.

You think you know me.

I am the one you judge.

I am the one you hate.

I am the one you despise for no reason rather than what you think you know about me.

You think you know me.

You think you see me the right way.

You think you have a right to see me whatever way you want, whether it's right or not.

You think God blessed you with the right to judge me.

You think you know me.

You think you know me.

And sometimes, you're so busy pretending that you think you know me that you forget.

You

don't.