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Ughh... I really didn't want to submit to the trend nowadays of making the journal a collection of really depressing poems.. or just any type of poem. I'm a terrible poet anyways (and a terrible writer, but some would disagree... stare ). Whatever, though. I haven't used this journal in a while, and I kind of liked this one.

Who Understands Me but Me
Originally by Jimmy Santiago Baca, Revised by Me

They turn their heads away, so I am ignored,
They belittle me, so I am humiliated,
They take my possessions, so I have nothing,
They take my spirit, so I am nothing,
They force me to conform, so I have no individuality,
They stand on me, so I am crushed,
They spit on me, so I am dirty,
They throw up their heads and laugh, and I am miserable,
They tell me I’m wrong, so I doubt myself,
They show me how to act, so I am their puppet,
They abuse me, so I am weak,
They take away my love, so I am left alone,
They play with my mind, so I have gone mad,
They play with my heart, so I am left numb,
Who understands me when I say there is still hope?
Who understands me when I say this isn’t the only answer?

I cannot achieve what they expect me to achieve,
I cannot fly, for my wings have been clipped,
I can only put my trust in myself, my true friend,
I am far less than perfect, no more than a fool,
I am selfish and arrogant,
When all around me are the screams of the self-indulgent,
I try to accept myself,
And I am only beginning to truly see myself,
The door to my future is opened and the keys, the very abuse that left
me weakened,
The spit in my face,
The laughter and the humiliation that caused me such grief,
With loss came clarity,
Like an old church window, weather worn and caked with dirt,
Each negative feeling wiping away,
Making visible the interior, a truth against the many lies I’ve been
told,
The truth that I no longer need to doubt myself,
That my possessions are unimportant and mean nothing,
That my imperfections become my individualities,
And I pressed my face against the clear glass,
I laughed, as they had laughed at me, for I had found the answers,
Who understands me when I say there is still hope?