They tell me to write
So I sit back on my bed side
Upright-
Ready to bleed
I'm distracted
By the low light
Cowering above my head
Think I'll smoke a cigarette
Instead
I inhale steadily
Trying to catch a beat
Telling myself
That nobody understands me
Today-
I keep myself motivated
What else can I do
There's no hesitating
I'm drinking to every occasion
It's something to do
These streets aren't offering anything
So hand me a brew
Think I'll start my ranting-
I could start
But it won't make me happy
Tired of early mornings
Waking up alone in a cold home
I'm bored
Having conversations with the floor board
The television pours out more bad news
This sh** is depressing
Hand me a brew
That's why I just sit
In this f***** up predicament
Feels like the world has left me behind
I go to open the curtains I once had
The reality is too difficult to grasp
I'm reaching out for vanishing hands
They should all be glad
I'm locked away
This is how they treat the forgotten
I'm writing until my fingers start to bleed
I have no other choice
I'm going to keep ranting
Until I don't have a voice
-Dez Sevena