You don't know me

Sometimes I wish I could escape the image of me.
No one knows me.
We only put out there what we allow to be seen.
We only know how we treat others.
I was a JAP at least that was when I was young.
I was defiant and ran.
I was a whore.
I am broken.
I have always been broken.
I'm loving, I care.
I hurt people just by being.
Please stop being nice to me!
You don't even know me!

Self

I wonder how long it takes to find myself.
What if I decide that I don't like me.
How often did others know that they were keeping me silent,
Killing me a tiny bit each day.
Will the me inside of me be happy that I finally looked for her,
Instead of looking for others?
Will she retreat to an even darker place,
Hide her face in shame and pain.
Will she forgive me?
I wonder if I will like me?