I Am, Am I?

I’m not used to people staying,

not for long and not forever.

They always walk away in the end,

cause they don’t like what they see.

When I finally let them in

they all recoil in disgust.

I’ve wondered what was wrong with me,

that I drive away my friends.

They used to call me poisonous, a bitch,

arrogant and difficult.

They call me hateful and shallow,

self-absorbed and close-minded.

How could they know what’s in my mind,

what I hold dear to my heart?

And how can they know who I am,

when they don’t bother to learn?

Am I difficult and bitchy,

or arrogant and heartless?

I do not believe it is true,

but I could be wrong again.