For everything that I say,
There’s always something taken another way. 
For every action I take,
It’s always disdainfully thrown back in my face. 
I don’t pretend to understand myself,
But at least I’ve never misunderstood myself. 
I’ve never assumed things
That I don’t know. 
Others shouldn’t assume to know,
To try and turn me into something I’m not. 
Because it hurts to explain,
The same things once again. 
Always again, just as pointless as the last. 
For it to fall on deaf ears. 
I try to be clear,
As clear as I can. 
Because I’m a jumbled mess,
So much so that even I can’t make sense. 
I don’t know what I am,
Or what I feel. 
But I know what it’s not, 
What I’m not. 
And it’s not what they say,
And they can’t, won’t listen. 
So I stop talking,
Because if I don’t talk,
They can’t misunderstand.