I'm Not A Poet

I'm Not A Good Person. I'm Just A Person.

I
look back.
On the days people hurt me,
with words
with hands
with insults to my youth,
but old fashioned brain.

I tell you all,
about how cruel
the world
and the people on it
are.

But I never tell you about me

Is it shame?
Or
Is it because I like to think
that I can never be bad?

I've been hurt so many times
so surely I have a reason.
Surely I'm allowed to.

No.
No one is allowed to be like this.

I have abandoned my made up families in schools.
I have teased.
I have tested people's patience.
I have made people cry.
I have hurt.
I have been the loss.
I have been the heart break.
I have been the one who laughs and turns a blind eye.

I have been
what I so hate
and write about so much.

I write to you,
not so you can pity
but to relate to

But then,
Why didn't I say
That it's okay to be bad too?

Maybe I was embarrassed
for being a hypocrite.