im just taking up time and space better suited for a better waste and i think if only I could sell just one song better days would come along I may become what I dream to be a burden ceased Yetstill breathing im just taking up the air and I know it can be found everywhere but still wasted breath it seems the hate for me inside me screams if I could do better things maybe if I could just sell this book the mirror might not be such a daunting place to look maybe I could give as much as I have took but those are all just maybes because maybe id just feel the same id find another reason another very good reason to lay heavy on my back the blame a different kind of shame would I even still be me without a core thats rot in misery without it I just might be an empty shell if I wasn't descending deeper into hell but if people still wept for poetry I could build a life with scraps of trees from scraps of trees. wouldnt that be a bit of irony cuz up til now without a doubt I've been suffering for free. and I feel a little karma owed would go a long long way for me. but maybe not maybe death would still be on my list blow my brains out slit my wrist what ever means might catch my fancy should the agony persist its always just been there gnawing as thru this life I keep on crawling I simply can't imagine me unchained from the misery or if id exist if someday the fates could shift and i had a value besides my to be an altruist for hedonists and id be set maybe there's other ways for other days to make charity in disparity but I haven't found it yet.
