The Things I Leave Unsaid

49. I'm Not Me Because Of Them

I've decided to tell you all
A bit about myself.
It's personal as always
And it's something no one else

Knows anything about
Because I've chose to hold it in,
Because those who
complain all the time;
They never truly win.

Something sends me seething
even though on my outside,
I keep a freshly painted grin on
Storing hidden secrets behind.

But it all just eats me away
These words that many've spoken
Because these people all seem to think
That without them, I'd be broken.

Dear all my lovely teachers,
From first grade through ten,
There are (more than) a few things
You do not understand.

I hate it when you tell me
I must have a lovely mother,
Who helped me get to where I am
And proud must be my father.

Must be, you say.
I hear it all the time
And the words all slip together, 
Tumbling 'round my boiling mind.

But I keep on smiling
Though it couldn't be more fake.
Ignorance is contagious and
Assuming's their mistake.

I loathe when you tell them
That they did a wonderful job
Of raising me to who I am today.
My heart: it throbs.

Because though I'm the perfect child,
Mom and Dad have never cared.
It's just me and my pillow
Wondering why all's so unfair.

I say to others, "I'm raising myself!"
My tone's ever joking and light.
But the words are more true
Than any of you
Will ever believe in your life.

Manners like that of the grand English King
But at home I am then forced to fight
For all the rights you already have.
You see, I wasn't taught to be polite.

They have not a say in all that I've done.
Because it was me, not them; I'm the one
who had to put in all the time on those days,
But yet in a blink it's all given away.

To people who've done nothing
And therefore deserve the same.
Since to them in public,
All of life is but a game.

Don't let the strangers know
That you aren't always pleased.
Instead put on a show
So that you make them all believe.

That everything is fine
and no harsh words ever spoken.
Though behind these closing doors
I'm so sorry, but I'm choking.

My parents don't support me and
They don't deserve your praise.
They barely even talk
to the son of whom they raised.

Always critique my opinions
when the two are not the same.
And when everything is going wrong,
It's always me to blame.

Why do others tell me I'm so smart and funny and kind,
But never get these words from those who've known me all my life?

Instead you toss your money at me
Sipping from that mug.
But what if all I ever wanted
was just a simple hug?

But back to what I was saying before,
They've helped me not much
and I wish they'd done more,
But they haven't and so then it bothers me
when people congratulate them for me.

In my success, you neither have hands.
And I've done my best without any friends,
Yeah, it's been hard but still I managed to
Be who I am without either of you.

So don't tell me to appreciate
Their support when it's really hate.

One thing you need to understand
is that I'm not me because of them.

____________________________________________

The flow's a little funky in this^ but I just don't care right now.

Vote if you can relate to a soul
That sort of broken but sometimes whole.
Who's only trying to beat this life
And get through all the constant strife.
That twists inside us like a knife.

A boy who burns so badly,
Blinded by the flames.
Bounded by authority.
Hating all the claims.

Her lids are tightly shut but if only she just knew
That the flames would be all gone when appeared her crystal blues.

The blues in her eyes,
if she let in the light.
But that's easier to say than to do.

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