Introverted By My Thoughts [✓]

Prattle

How much do you really know me?
That gave you the right,
To define outlines of how I should live my life?
You talk like you know every aspect of me;
You're confident, that you know my hurt - hysterical.
You know nothing about me, yet still,
You tarnish my way of living to the ground,
And call it useless.
Boosting your self inflated ego,
By slowly depriving me of right to self esteem - pathetic.

You did not look me in the eye,
The day you called me a lost cause.
Rather, you said it behind my back,
Hoping the words never reach me;
But you were standing right behind me,
So pick a guess, and base it on your ignorance.
The fact that I choose to ignore your puny comments,
Doesn't mean I don't hear them.
I carefully discard my mind of garbage,
Reserving my comments.

The definition of the thing you see,
Is something you clearly do not understand.
But I'd spell it to you slowly,
In hopes that one day you'd remember me,
Of a fact that I indeed told you so.

The word is maturity.
M. A. T. U. R. I. T. Y.
Maturity!

Your little gossips behind the scenes,
Get to me.
But I'd not let you have the last laugh,
By letting it define me.