subject matter

Sometimes I wonder if I ever really mattered
and left more than a scuff mark or a scar
on the people that mattered
to me

While I carry the scars of my life around
buried deep inside
beyond the aura of my energy

She found it hard to believe
I was capable of being a bitch
I just seemed so content
all the time

My entire existence breathes lies
out into the atmosphere
where we’re all judged
like the covers of books
few ever taking the time
to look inside

I don’t know who I am anymore
and I wonder about this empty nothingness
when someone once meant (and still means)
the world
to me

Did I ever really matter
at all?

© Indie Adams 2012
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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