Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

My name used to be ILuvJohhnyCade, but I'm pretty sure it was hard to take me seriously with a name like that, so I changed it.

Hideous Heart

Will you ever fit in (will you ever be right?) with the halo-ed demons or the snow white Marys?

Will you ever sit in the center (not the back; not the outside) and stretch your lips in a joyful grimace while you tell YOUR story?

Will your heart ever burst open into song, letting the music flood out of your pulsing veins like blood, showing all that you have inside (isn't it hideous?)

Instead you peer in through the dirty glass window, with your arm around yourself (I can't even try to hold myself together)

You lay in your dollhouse of a room, gasping for the devil's breath of friendship to ghost into your pale lips.

Your heart shatters into icicle shards, soaring past your mutilated, too-thin wrists (don't cut me open)

You imagine your insides falling out of your worthless skeleton (Hasn't it been in the closet always?), your heart's beating visible from underneath the fragile bird cage that is expected to protect you.

You imagine no one ever coming to find your battered body, no one ever noticing your extended vacation.

No one heeds you any notice, anyway. You're always on the edge, trying to break the atmospheric barrier to get into the heaven of acceptance (there you would find redemption)

So you just stay away from all their loving games (you make yourself untouchable)

An outsider.

You wish you could sweep up these eggshells you're always walking on with your tough outlook, your no-love policy that has no exceptions (except for HIM)

You would give your heart and soul (if you still have one) to give him the acceptance he deserves, the love he needs like oxygen.

That's the only reason you're still alive. Because if you weren't, the kid would be alone.

And you know the nights where the loneliness is your only companion, where the blood oozing out of your scaly skin is the only liquor you need (and you can't do that to him)

So you keep your heavy eyelids open for a few more minutes, making sure the blonde lashes don't close too soon

Or he'll end up like you

An outsider.

Your glowing eyes (lit from the hurt within) cut right through your tough image, peel the mask off like a wrapper to reveal your hideous heart still beating within your tired chest

And every time you're amazed it's still there.

Will you ever admit that you aren't right, that you never were and never will be? (Never, never.)

You check that your heart is still beating (preserve yourself for the kid) and then slip into the abyss of unconsciousness, dreaming of knifes slicing through your flesh and gunshots ringing next your head.

I know most people feel like all the greasers are the outsiders, but I've always thought that Dally, Johnny and Ponyboy were all considered weird, even for greasers. So I thought of them as the only outsiders, in my world. Maybe I'm just screwed up, I dunno.

TO ALL BETAS: I'm considering trying to write an insanity story. Like, Ponyboy is totally crazy, but I definitely need some help. For my other stories I haven't had a beta, but I need one now, because I have big plans for this story if I can even pull it off. Please PM me if you are interested.