Blending In

Sometimes I grow weary of the lack of attention,
I tried to get my point across but nobody listened.
I express my gifts, and my "friends" just hate,
Some told me they were real, but proved to be fake.

I shared with them my secrets, my deepest thoughts,
I tried to explain it all, but they saw inkblots.
Is it because I'm not rich, or not at all famous?
That people around me treat me like an ignoramus?

They call themselves ally's, but they've shown to be enemies,
They act different when I'm gone, and that's not a friend to me.
Who can I trust when these few have betrayed?
I remained down and out, and they refused to give aid.

When I talk to them, I'm talking to bricks, my opinion doesn't matter,
In their presence I feel full of bad luck, like I'm living under a ladder.
They consult themselves, and cater their needs, while mines go un-met,
I have to fend for myself, because the ones I trusted treat me worse than a household pet.

Sometimes I find myself daydreaming, not indulging in conversation,
Because my words aren't recognized, and I feel as different as a dalmatian.
I tend to keep quiet now, since my words aren't worth shit to them,
And in return I ignore their words, like their mouths are full of condemn.

So call me a loner, call me an emo, call me what you want!
Cause I'd rather be alone, than have fake "friends" that taunt,
I love peace and quiet, I enjoy being alone, to me it's not a sin,
And every time those fake asses come around, I'll continue to just blend in...