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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 07, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 07, 2017




My mind wanders, wherever it goes, It's hard to take control,
No choice, I just hear my voice repeating every word in my thoughts,
It never stops.

And I'm tired of this consistency, it’s like negativity clings to me.
Humanity refuses to open their eyes, and it doesn't mesh with my mind.
It's happening all the time.

Constant disrespect, it's causing an affect.
It's hurting my spirit and I fear I'll do something I'll regret,
I’m tired of killing myself slowly just to earn money for rent.

I’ve been put in this place where humanity is a disgrace. The walls are closing in and I’m stuck in a tight space. My heart is in need of a cast because it’s still broken from the past.
I need a cure and I need it fast, what I’m smoking doesn’t last.
Low on cash, earning minimum wage they might as well just pay you with trash.

Life is hardly easy, if I keep quitting jobs then who’s going to feed me? I just want to live happily, money and education shouldn’t make you evil, what a fucking tragedy.
For those who don’t understand me, maybe you don't understand the agonizing normality of living paycheque to paycheque because your lives are fantasies.
Some people struggle every day only reaching insanity.

They watch us like we’re underneath, money is the riches oxygen and they don’t want the poor to breathe. There are so many lifeless lives on these streets becoming criminals in order to eat.
We have the freedom of speech, but they never listen when we try to speak. It's only sadness that I see, this is not the way it's supposed to be.

It’s like time just stopped, it’s like the universe just put me on spot, the definition of happiness is something I forgot. What happened to the easy times? In a hurry to grow up, they said “just wait” now they say “It’s getting late.”
It's fucking impossible to concentrate, it’s so impossible to find something that I don’t fucking hate.

Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m alive, all I need is a day without feeling the need to cry, I’m losing strength to even try. All I need is a day without feeling the need to fucking die.

On the search to find my space, what’s my purpose in this corrupted place?
And why's it so hard to just escape?

On this life journey I’ve only worried, endless thoughts of life not being for me. All l really want is a happy ending to my story. 

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