Miss DYSfunctional

Between the star and the diplomat
The real me hides within my heart.
For I doubt there’s room in my family
For all my idiosyncrasy.
Maybe, I’m blind; or plain crazy
I could be wrong- it’s so hazy;
But whenever I try, I simply can’t
Recall feeling significant.
It might be a lapse of memory-
Or I’m really just an accessory.
Whichever way, it’s a struggle.
The middle child’s angst is hard to juggle.
Just when I sort my feelings out,
Something happens, and in comes doubt
In spite of all the tests I’ve stood,
It’s still hard being misunderstood.
What I long for; deep down inside
Is someone to realise that I try;
Someone to say: “I accept you
For all you are and all you do”.
It’s true I’m unconventional
This weirdness is my normal.
Sometimes, I wish I were like y’all
So could always feel involved.
But this is really who I am;
Unlike you- see, I understand;
But I know trying to change myself
Would rob me of my greatest wealth;
The one thing only I can be:
My God-given personality.
I have rough edges- it’s no news.
That’s the spot you should smooth, not bruise.
At times, I wonder, “Why bother?”
But I know how we need each other.
We’re not the same- and it’s okay.
At the risk of spouting a cliché:
Let’s celebrate our differences!
We don’t have to like the same things.
It’s possible for this to work
If we’ll climb off one another’s neck:
I’ll learn if you’ll teach by example;
Disrespect is a risky gamble;
Don’t hide your feelings in a practised mask;
I hope it’s not too much to ask
That you love unconditionally
Messed-up-but-trying, dysfunctional me.