Freshman year I was embarrassed to be in marching band

I was mocked, laughed at, and told mean things

Because marching band was supposed to be an embarrassing thing.

No credit for us, we practice the longest

Why is it you hate us, when we are the most honest?

The kindest people you could meet, 

Our passion is present.

We practice rain or shine,

Sometimes even in the snow,

Rarely going inside.

We start in the summer heat,

Swatting at the bees.

We end in the bitter cold,

Instruments barely playing. 

Wednesdays a day off,

A break in the middle,

From a continuous cycle.

As a senior, 

No words or mocking will affect me

Because some of those band kids

Found a place where they were loved and accepted.