I'm not a good soul.
Spoilt from the past; forgotten in the present yet the way that it feels is like the future doesn't matter.
Hanged by his hands so these burdens are his medicines, caught between choices yet it seems they're all his nemesis.
Lied to myself till my addictions got heavier, smiled to my thoughts of a better life in hysteria.
Doubts on my talents because the wisdom is sickening; cash on hand but there's nothing to do with it so I spent it on the drugs that will numb my thoughts speaking, freedom from your mind is the gold unlocking.
Another day is here yet it feels like I'm wastening, another way to live is when I find myself listening to these life of uncertainties till I find myself gasping for food for my thoughts while I grasp a pen writing.
