I didn’t ask for this,
This thing called life
I didn’t ask for my gift to write.
I didn’t ask for any,
But I’ve been given plenty.
I’ve felt empty, broken and used.
Till I was outspoken about the abuse,
Physical and mental
Far from gentle
For so long I was resentful.
Lost, without a cue of my identity,
Tossed aside, a “blue” mentality.
Hell or purgatory
I have one hell of a story.
One that’ll down with glory,
Loose in my laboratory
This sad man cries,
How can I feel alive,
When I just want to die?
To feel real, this emotion,
Is like an eruption.
Loud explosions and burning
These high degrees are still
part of the adventure.
Nature can be cruel
Or natural people just want to rule.
To be played a fool, not I.
I would never say a lie.
My infatuation with my thoughts,
Breaks my concentration on everyday
In this life you must be tough,
Grateful and one to trust.
To be hateful is to walk with a crutch
That is why I ate my hate for lunch.
I walk balanced
Glad for my talents
Once mad and sad, afraid to change
That’s when thoughts began to rearrange.
Now I’m in the right mind frame.