If I wrote a biography,
who would read it?
Maybe my mom,
grandma,
maybe even my brothers. 

My friends and the people I talk to.
But what about the others?
The group of boys I see in the halls.
Or the girls who only know my name because of things they've heard.
They wouldn't want to read about me.
They don't want to know the real me. 

The me that hurts,
the me that has feelings.
These people don't want the truth.
But what if I wrote a diary?
Who would read it then?
If I put all my secrets, my feelings,
and the lies people tell about me.
Who would read it? 

I am much more than what everyone says
They outline me with a sharpie
and put a label on my back.
But that's not who I am.
I don't have my life in a biography,
or in a diary,
so who would get to know me, for me?