It has been suggested to me
That I am self-centered and oblivious to others. They hint at me,
These others I am supposedly oblivious to, that ‘me’
Is the first priority of me.
Which isn’t fair. If you ask me
I’d say, personally, that they just don’t like me
Simply because they are jealous of me.
It’s no big deal to me.
I understand, really, that what they dislike in me
Is really only what they lack in themselves. By putting me
Down, they can place themselves higher than me
And think themselves better than me
While all the time they really wish they were me
Or somebody just like me
Or …they wish they could at least feel how it is to be me:
To not be envious of, or threatened by, me
But just be happy to be me.
I can’t let what they think get to me
Because that sort of thing could really get to me—
I mean, who needs to know what they’d tell me.
I get enough though hints made for me
To decipher, or to figure out, when they are near me
Or near enough for me
To overhear them talk about me
The way they do. I know what they think about me,
And, if it was up to me
I’d keep them away from me.
I don’t need them around me
All they do is bring me
Down. They are, in all actuality, toxic to me
And to themselves. It saddens me
Really, and there’s a part of me
That wants to help them out. To say “Listen to me,
Come on, I understand you. Let me
Help you get over this. It’s not me
That’s the problem here, it’s you…” But, the truth is, me
Saying anything to them about me that could help them see how they react to me
Is not going to happen. I’m me, they are them. We—me
And them—can’t reconcile. They’re jealous of me, they will never be like me.
