A faggot, a
Spastic, weird kid
Who
Sits in the back
With no one to do his lab with

The
Kid with acne and
Tons of Proactiv
Packed inside his backpack

He's got our back

A comedy man
With songs
That keep
His fans
Alive

He has
Saved
Countless lives
He sometimes even
Saves mine

Blocking out the
Thoughts
None of you understand
By listening to him
On the piano, with his hands

Hitting the keys
In their own crazy rhythm
A world
On
Fire

Grasping the
Microphone
Telling unimportant
Jokes
That ripple through society

I hope
He's
Happy
Because he's
Just like me

Bullied
On the
Outside
Witty
Underneath

Smart, with
Intelligent humor
Puns to overcompensate
For his short
Amount of friends

Called names
Faggot
Retard
Always believing them
Never believing them

Now he
Sells out
Concert halls
Maybe one day
That'll be me