I am stupid, ignorant, and filthy sometimes, Sometimes I am angry, I am guilty sometimes. Does this make me human? Does this make me a man? Does this helps me do things, In ways that I can! Working eight hours, Paying out my bills, I am secretly dying, With few shocks, few chills. Eating survival, and breathing out pain, Endlessly drifting, in a bottomless drain. Can this all be over, Will I ever win, Will this last forever, Or is this just a dream. Can this all be over, Will I ever win? How long I'd been counting, My flaws and my Sin!
A collection of blogs, poetry, sketches, and insights