My Dark Poems

Matter

My dear
I say
It seems
It doesn't matter
What you mean
That your aware
That your golden
Whisps
Of hair
Are always tangled
When one stares
The clothes
That comfort
Your mind
But itch your skin
Don't matter
To those
Who care for your
Eyes
Not the brand
On your disguise
It seems
It doesn't matter
If you paint your
Hair blue
Like the sky
Or pink
Like the rose
In your grandmothers
Garden
No one will care
How bright it may
Seem
How much attention
It brings
To gleam
Like a penny
Lost in the sea
It seems
Those shoes
Don't matter
To those
That step on your
Toes
Nibble
At your heels
Scratch up
The red paint
That made it so grand
More golden
Then a crown
On your kings
Head
It seems it doesn't
Matter
Nor do you
Matter
In a world
So large
So harsh
So grand
In a world
That will never
Seem
To understand
As it goes on
Even after
Your clothes
Are tattered
And your skin is cold
When your heart
No longer thumps
And your words
Are no longer
Bold
Nonexistent
All together
As the ground
Consumes you whole
And a man stands
Over your grave
Telling you To be brave
As you walk into
The valley
Of the shadow
Of death
And yet
You no longer matter
After
You take your last
Breath