So. I also wrote a songfic once - ^^ - it is not really intoxicating as I think and the end is something .. well how should I say .. Markaber? But what the heck .. I would be really happy about commis ^^ ;;;

aeon

REBEL

I am against it because you are for it
I'm against, I'm not like you
I am against it, no matter what it is about
I am against it because you don't understand anything about it

I'm against it, I'll say it again
I'm against it, it doesn't matter why
I'm against it, even if you don't like it,
I call it freedom, you call it a lack of respect.

It was once again one of those days when everyone seemed to be after him. First a mob bumped him on the bus and blamed him for it and then he has to go to the principal because he fell asleep in class. Joey sneaks down the corridor to the staff room and runs his hair through his hair again so that he doesn't look quite so desolate.Otherwise the old geezer might throw him out of school. He knocks on the door. "In!"
He puts his hand on the blade, pushes it down and pushes the door open. "Ah Wheeler. Come on. Please sit down." Joey just nods silently and does what he was told. One of the few moments when he does what he is told to do. The director looks at him over the edge of his glasses and turns his gaze back to the piece of paper he is holding in his hand. "You were nine times late in the last two weeks. Then you left school five times before class ended and you fell asleep in class three times. May I ask Mr. Wheeler why this happened?" Joey sat there and just looked at the director with a defiant look, then shrugged his shoulders slightly.

[i]Please understand my behavior as a sign of rejection,
with whom I face you
Please understand my behavior as a sign of rejection,with which I face you

After the principal gave him a long speech about right behavior and wrong behavior, Joey was allowed to return to his class. He lounged in his chair in the back row. He liked this place here, he could dream undisturbed without anyone noticing. His head was turned to the window and there was something dreamy in his gaze. He'd much rather run around outside and enjoy the sun now. But no. He had to sit in school and hear an idiot who had no plan of anything anyway. He was torn from his thoughts when the teacher stood in front of his desk and slammed a book on the tabletop for him. "Mr. Wheeler you should listen!" "Yes, yes. I am listening." Joey looks at the teacher and then at the book. It was the book in which the teacher always wrote the grades. "If you're just dreaming, it's no wonder you fail."'Great,' thought Joey to himself and let the guy babble. He didn't care anyway. He knew he wouldn't make it through the year. So why bother? The teacher hadn't finished texting Joey, but the doorbell rang at break and Joey got up. "Excuse me, please," he says politely and wants to leave but is held tightly by the arm. "Just a moment, Mr. Wheeler. I would like to speak to you in private. "The blond boy raised an eyebrow but stayed in the classroom and looks expectantly at the teacher. When the other students were all outside, the adult closed the door and slammed his music book on the teacher's desk." NOW TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON IN YOU MR. WHEELER !! "he yelled at Joey. The boy, however, remained leaning against his table unaffected. He had crossed his arms over his chest and gave the teacher the same defiant look that the headmaster got." I know that she will have another year can create.You just have to put in a little extra effort and that's all. But what am I saying? They should probably drop out of school, they are probably not as smart as everyone has always assumed. "Joey remained silent and almost made the teacher lose patience." Don't you want to say anything at all? "

I'm not stupid, even if you like to pretend
I'm not lazy, I just don't feel like it
I'm not ugly, I just look different from you
You lost, you just don't admit it

I'm not deaf, you don't need to scream like that,
I'm not blind, I just don't see it
I am not mute, I just keep my mouth shut
What can I say? I have no reason

School was finally over for today and Joey could go home. He takes off his school uniform jacket and hangs it over his shoulder. His hair was tangled again and no matter how often he ran his hair through it. As soon as the next wind came up it was disheveled again.So he leaves it like that. He strolls to the bus stop and leans against the street lamp that was there. A couple of girls sat on the bench. They looked at Joey and twisted their faces in disapproval. "Take a look at that. It looks weird." "Yes, like a stray" "Don't say that, I'm still scared!" The three girls got up and ran away. Joey shrugs. What does he care what others thought or said about him? He was actually quite happy the way he was. He also got along quite well without this group fuss. He got on the bus after it had stopped at the bus stop and crouched in one of the back seats.

[i]Please understand my behavior as a sign of rejection,
with whom I face you
Please understand my behavior as a sign of rejection,
with whom I face you
And while you're at it
also interprets my appearance as a symbol of non-identification with your values ​​When I got home there was what was really the last of the day. He had barely unlocked the door and his father's fist landed in his face. He stayed on his feet but was then dragged into the apartment and the door was slammed with a loud rumble. His father came up to him, because he had previously pushed him past him and waves a note. Of course the director had written a letter to his father so that he knew what a failure his son was. "What are you actually thinking of you no good? Are you too stupid or what? Now I can dance to your fucking teacher because of your hollow pear and listen to how stupid you are." He slapped the brown-eyed boy in the face again, but he seemed to be not wanting to fight back. He had dropped his jacket and bag and was being beaten. As always. At some point his father would calm down again.Maybe he would kill him too. But basically he didn't care. Somehow he even wished it would. Then this nightmare, which others at least called life, was finally over. His father left him after all and threw him a note. "I hope you will at least have enough sense to buy beer. So move your lame ass!" Joey was half thrown out of the apartment. He wipes the blood from his lip and nose with his sleeve and sniffs softly. People look at him condescendingly, but they always did. So he was used to it. When he got to the supermarket, he went through the shelves and looked around. With the beers in his arms, he went to the cash register. Some of his class stood in front of him at the cash register and laughed happily. They bought some expensive stuff and apparently had a lot of fun. Didn't really interest Joey, he just hoped they didn't recognize him.While it was common knowledge that his father was a thug, the last thing he needed was her pity.

Nobody- nobody- nobody has the right to tell me what to do
Really no one, simply no one, that is entirely my own free decision

I am not poor, I have what I like
I'm not jealous of you or your money
Welcome to my résumé
I'm very calm, why are you so upset?

Then if you go crazy and blow me away again
Do you write yourself a certificate of poverty?
I feel sorry for you, the anger, it blinds you
You have lost, I am no longer your child

Back home, he puts the beer he bought in the fridge and retreats to his room before his father got his hands on it again. He crouched on his bed and unbuttons his shirt. His upper body was covered with bruises and bruises. He sighed softly. Here he could finally be himself.He reached into the drawer of his bedside table and took out an old tin can. Reluctantly, he opens it and examines the contents. He was really fed up with this life. Always this 'do this' 'do that' that got on his nerves, he would rather be in another world than endure this nightmare. From below he could clearly hear his father's voice talking to the television again. Apparently he was watching soccer. At least that way he wouldn't bother Joey. The blond boy took off his shirt completely and examined his arm, which was decorated with a lot of scars and cuts. He didn't know exactly when he'd started it, but he knew now he would put an end to it all. He took one of the razor blades from the tin case and put it on, pulled it through, and leaned back in his bed. They could hit, yell, loathe, or threaten him as much as they wanted.He didn't care about any of this now. At last he was able to wake up from this terrible dream ...

Nobody- nobody- nobody has the right to order me what to do
Really no one, simply no one, that is entirely my own free decision
Just like opinion or clothing, and the internal and external appearance!