Who are you to tell me I mean nothing in this world?
Who are you to tell me that I’m less then what I should be?
Who are you to say I have no feelings or that I have no purpose?
Who are you to call me names and treat me like dirt from this once precious piece of art?
Who are you to bring back the pain, the anger, the utter humiliation, and the violence?

Can I not walk outside and feel like I’m on top of the world?
Can I not sing along with my favorite band without being constantly criticized?
Can I not sit in my room for hours reading, writing, or painting without you wondering if I’m doing something illegal for once?
Can I not spend the day with my boyfriend without you thinking I will come back pregnant ?
Can I not hang out with my friends without you yelling at me for not cleaning my room or doing the dishes like you asked me?

Who are you to tell me I am a worthless piece of garbage?
Who are you to tell me I can’t dress this way because I give the family a bad image?
Who are you to say I can’t hang out with my friends because they’re different?
Who are you to burn my art or throw away my writing because it is too inappropriate for the young mind to comprehend?

Can I not paint what the world truly looks like through my eyes?
Can I not write what I feel and share it with the rest of the world to read?
Can I not walk down the streets of New York without you following me every step of the way?
Can I not act like the tomboy I am without you telling your co-workers that I’m just rebelling out of anger?
Can I not have friends over to the house without you having more than four beers?

Who are you to say I am a disappointment?
Who are you to say I will never amount to anything?
Who are you to compare me to your friend’s children?
Who are you to say I can’t have any fun until I learn to suck it up and get over the pain?
Who are you to throw so much at me knowing I can only take so little?
Who are you to say I can’t like both girls and boys?
Who are you to say my friends or any one I associate with can only be white?
Who are you to say that my B average is not good enough?


Can I not do anything for myself without it having a purpose for you?
Can I not hang out with my Hispanic and African American friends who know so much about me when you can’t even remember my birthday?
Can I not hang out with my grandfather on weekends because you cannot get over the fight you had al those years ago?
Can I not show you an accomplishment without you telling me how your friends kids have done award winning worth accomplishments?
Can I not make a B on my math test without you shouting and yelling that it isn’t good enough?
Can I not tell you I’m in pain without you making it worse?
Can I ever tell you how I really feel one day?
Can I ever truly say these words to you without fists or verbal abuse being thrown to one another?

The answer is quite simple; the answer is no I cannot,
But it isn’t because I am afraid of you,
It is simply because you would just choose not to listen,
You would say you have something better to do,
You would shut me out and never let me in again,
You would say I am over exaggerating,
But am I really or are you just to stubborn to admit your own mistakes?
One day you will realize that I was right and you were wrong,
And when that day comes it will be too late for you to fix anything,
When that day comes I will be long gone from this uninviting atmosphere,
When that day comes I will have a new life to live,
But until that day, I’ll just sit here quietly, trying not to be such a disappointment or get in your way,
Until that day just ignore me, like you always have.