To Whom It May Concern

This was the first poem I remember writing. It was 1993, and I was 15 years old.

                                      To Whom It May Concern


                              I am not perfect

                                        Accept me as I am.

                        I am, however, the most I can be.

                                      And that should be enough.
                           
                                              If it is not, too bad.

                              Look in the mirror
             
                                      And see your own faults.

                            For none is greater than

                                    The pain of being

                                          Compared to another.

                        The sadness that lurks

                                In my every emotion

                            Is not enough to satisfy

                                                  Your own greed.

                            Keep your distance
 
                                    And peace might overcome

                                                          The nation.

                      I am not perfect,

                                      Do not tread on my image.