That Should Be Me

When I walk into the doors of small town high school I walk past the group of gothics. The outcasts, the misunderstood ones. I say hey to a few that speak to me and I walk on down the hall to my locker, where my group of friends stand each morning. As I walk I see a kid sittin in the hall against the wall. Dressed in black with long shaggy hair, a note book proped on his bent knees, and hes lost somewhere inside his words as he trasnlates them to paper. They dont understand him, they look down on him, and sometimes I feel like I should be him.