Reject, shun

Shun the reject, he won’t knowLost within his own abusesA coping, hopeless misanthropeOne who counts the daysThe ways to waylay happinessThere’s no empathy for a blank slateNor a tear shed for the attemptRejoice! A hand bled dead in the cullOf the dull; he who sullies humanityWith his surreptitious kindnessHe cannot feel, cannot be realDespite his