Internet Poetry

Little rusted souls
pouring themselves all over the web
Singing about their wounds and broken hearts
Can the world be so cold to them?
That they can sit and complain everyday
in comfortable chairs
to a little box of buzzing metal and plastic?
Can anything equal their "agony" and "suffering"?
Another poor kid who doesn't fit in.
Furiously typing over-used phrases
They don't really know what they mean
But wouldn't you want to be pretty too?