I’m Not Like You

This is a poem I wrote in between sets of my bench training session last week. It’s about being different. I think we all have something about ourselves that we hide from the world. The self that we present to those around us is only the part of us that we’re comfortable letting out. To truly be yourself (all of yourself), and let your guard down, leaves you extremely vulnerable. However, I think if we could all do this, we would be surprised to find that we’re not as alone as we might think.

There are things about myself that I’ve only started to face in the last year or so. At times, it was very painful and frustrating. If you ever stared at yourself in the mirror and wondered who you really are, then you can relate to where I am and where I’ve been. They say we all have our demons, and this has definitely been mine. I’m conquering it, but it has been and still is – at times – a challenge.

One thing I have come to realize is that being different doesn’t make you more or less valuable. It’s not good or bad, right or wrong. It just means that you’re different. I also reached a point in my life where I no longer base my own self-worth on the opinions of others.

If you’re expecting William Shakespeare, sorry to disappoint you…

I’m not like everyone else, born different without a home,
No one like me, no one can see, I’m all alone.

I hide what I am and who I came to be.
If you knew the truth you too would hate me.

You have no idea what lies inside me.
If you did, friends no more would you be.

I walk among you an ugly wolf in beautiful sheep’s clothing.
I look deep into the mirror but I can not stop this painful self loathing.

I am a monstrosity, a freak amongst the pure.
You believe I am diseased, you need to find the cure.

Pain, anger and agony, why must this always be?
No longer can I contain the animal within me.

Why must this life torment me so?
Will true happiness ever find me? I don’t know.

I seek and I search wanting to destroy,
But that which I hate lies within this boy.

I cry out unsure of the truth of my own name.
The source of my strength and weakness are one and the same.

How can I win this war, conquer this enemy?
Perhaps the reality is…it’s me versus me.

I never claimed to be Edgar Allan Poe,
 Matt Kroczaleski