Did I Do Anything?

I think I am blinded,
I think I am dying,
But I just can’t tell,
I still hear the rumors of my life,
Of I did that, I did this,
Did I do anything?

Every poem starts with a thought,
End on an idea, or firm belief,
What if you have neither?
But, still, somehow writing down your feelings,
While listening to the rumors of a life,
Of I did that, I did this,
Did I do anything?

There’s a million and some rumors a person will hear,
All about them, or about someone else,
Can range from anything,
All insulting, all lies,
They tell how the person did this, did that,
But did nothing at all,
If you want to know the truth, don’t ask anyone else,
But the one all the rumors are about,

Rumors can kill, once everyone believes in them,
They are like fairy tales, without a happy ending,
People will start them about others,
But will cry and bitch once it gets back to them,
Don’t start a rumor, honey,
People have died from this game,
From the misery, the loveless, the sadness,
All the pain, taken to a wrist, to a neck,
To a gun pressed against my head,
Aren’t rumors fun?

I am blinded,
I am dying,
I can finally tell,
These were the rumors of my life,
The lies that had defined me,
As a whore that has aids, as retarded,
As I said that, as I said this,
As I did that, as I did this,
These lies defined me, as the truths escaped.
Did I do any of these things?
Or do people have really colorful imaginations?