The stinging laughter rains upon me
as they carelessly destroy another kart
I worked hours upon hours on.
I'm forced into the mud
as their cries begin
"The game would be perfect if you didn't exist."
"You'll never be a racer."
"You're nothing but a malfunction."
A mistake.
A glitch.
A weirdo.
A reject.
A freak.
I was programmed to race.
coded, even.
I just know it.
But they don't.
My arms and hair begin to flash
as I glitch out once again.
Do they realize I had no choice
to be like this?
That if it wasn't for a choice
beyond my control,
I could be normal
like them.
But I will never be normal.
I leave my stripped kart behind
as I walk back alone
to my mess of a place I call home.
Their laughter stills echos off the mountains
rebounding right back into my heart
breaking it even further.
A constant reminder
of my nonconformity.
My greatest shame.
If only I didn't flash all the time.
If only I was an actual character
and not a reject.
Then I could see myself in the starting lineup
riding the sweetest candy kart
and winning.
Completly flash-free the whole way through.
But alas, my racer's dream shall remain a dream
a far cry from the abusive reality I endure
Never experiencing a chance to be one of them
Forever stuck with the chance to be one of me
A kind of one.
And every lonely night I lie awake
wondering what things would be like
if they had turned out differently.
But they didn't.
Until then
I am the outcast.
The outcast who looks at her mirror image
with nothing but shame
and sees nothing but a freak.
The outcast who somberly wonders:
"Can different ever be beautiful?"