One glass of loneliness,
Another glass of peer’s ignorance.
Measure last-pick in football,
Meanwhile, add a streak of alone tables,
Mix it with 6 teachers who’ve given up on you,
And a parent who’s left you on your own.
Remove all shoulders to cry on,
And all friends you can rely on,
Saute and pour an acre of no talent,
And an empire of name calling,
(which you don’t even know what they mean, but for flavor),
Five days a week for therapy,
And whip no one to talk to…
At the same time add that girl who thinks you cause infection,
And the boy who thinks you like boys,
And lastly, the boy that changes faces.
Bake with a lifetime of bad luck
Mix well in a teenage body and let sit for 13 years.
Add more ingredients as time passes.
Top and spread with a generous helping of no friends and no sense of self-worth.