I Am, But try not to Be

my past, raw and crooked.
unclean, not filtered-through.
lay in front of me like
a distorted color.
Withered, I was beaten.
Numerous, countless times...
but imperfect? Not so.
Because from mistakes.
I learned.
I grow, still.
I am as the person,
who lives next door-
alike to the people around
we hide our distortions.
I am, but try not to be,
the arrogance that haunts,
the hatred that destroys,
and my own hope that I crushed.

I am like the person,
who lives next door.