"im bad at drawing im terrible at designing (no shit) but I am mediocure at writing and thats something (right?)" -mahatma gandhi

I say I wont, but I will.

I say never, but im lying

I run away, in a circle

Im alive, but im dying

I keep failing, but not learning

I keep making more excuses

But when my poor and feeble mind fights with nature it just loses

here I am, free like a bird, hanging high above the world. everything"s so small from up here Its just me and the breeze. the smog doesnt bother me right now, now that im high above the world. I see them all my citizens gathering up slowly, forming a crowed at the base of my tower. waiting for my orders. for a moment of peacefulness I foolishly take one step back. Ive made up my mind already. things are not as they seem down at the ground. I imagine the staircase vanishing behind me. I am stuck now. panic I scream for help and no one hears. my henchmen disobey. they keep staring at me. I want to go back to the ground I NEED TO GO BACK. I take one more step forward. soon ill be just under my precious ground.

I wrote this when I was in a low point in my life, im ok now I just like it.

waiting for death, lusting for the loss of conciousness. in the unending void of words unspoken. away from the pain, apart from the thoughts. im sick of the noise of the wold, the chirping of birds which once brought me joy makes me nauseous today. how loud have the suffering screamed yet thair voice is unheard. something inside me is dying, fighting an uphill battle against a universe which spits on me every step of the way. like sysiphus pushing the rock up a hill, so must I live every day knowing nothing is going to change. asking myself, what happend to the man that once was. feeling entitled for wanting happiness. chasing the high that only joy can give in an effortless attempt to catch it. to summerise: im tired. tired of watching my friends have the time of thair lives while im waiting for the time left in mine to end

rotating whirlpool. that is what my life feels like. so far steered off of the path which I try to follow oh so religiously. and as I grab the edge, begging, crying and pleading to the whirlpool to quiet down. to let me get back to the road which I hold so dearly. the whirlpool listens not. first washing my tears. then washing my body. I return to the infinite abyss.

I wrote this as a slam poetry piece so it might read weird.

words that ive written are not words that ive said. when im sitting alone all of these thoughts in my head, saying what is the perpous? what is the point? so I take out my bag and roll up a joint. a feeling euphoria fills up my mind. if life was this pretty then I was so blind. one thing leads to another and look where ive come. no money dark room needle stuck in my arm. the feeling once euphoria has gone away. I am now forced to use day after day. and nobody even knows what ill do for a rock. ill cheat and ill steal ill even suck on your... Im so sick and so tired as I stand on the edge, I take a hit one last time. before I jump off the ledge.