I miss having passion, a rhyme, a purpose, a reason. I miss being five and never wanting to take my life in rainy season.
I wish I could find that feeling, touch my soul and have a life more appealing but instead here I am living a life void of meaning.
Drugs are a temporary relief, unraveling underlying mental illness and riding a high much too brief.
They say they want me but lack depth and I want to be wanted for more than intimacy.
I’ve seen everything I’d rather not see, dark , ugly, twisted, evil, so please, do not take a glance and patronize me.
I’ve got scars inside and out that bring up things no one wants to talks about, but it’s okay I’m okay I promise not to pout.
Twenty years of trying to make you happy, I’m sorry mom I wasn’t the kid you wanted, too much like my absent daddy. Sixteen-Thirty-Eight, a cursed number, you said I should have bleed out in that alley, I promise I tried, I wanted to so badly.
It’s getting a little dark I didn’t mean to cause sorrow I’m just trying to leave my mark, trying my best to get back some type of spark down this terrifying road I’ve been born to embark.
I think it’s time to go now will you light a candle for my soul? Devil’s close on my heels now, I can smell the burning coal.
Golden Era 