I’ve been a bad person for the last several years,
I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I’m committed to becoming a better person before I cease to exist in,
This beautiful life I was given…
I always peg myself with the question:
Why am I alive when I could die right!
Nobody would know until my body is found…
Never do I hurt myself in anyway,
I’ll cry in my room and vent when I feel winded from handling all of this pain,
Inside of my heart where it’s empty of anybody’s,
Just a feeling that tends to manifest itself when you’re stigmatized as crazy,
Or just a lazy prick without a goal to reach for the day!
Even if I know I’m working as hard as I can to upstage my demons,
On a stage where my tears drip drowning every heathen who could not refrain from,
Poking the belly of the Beast inside of me…