Day in, day out were forgotten about. We choose our dreams, we went our routes. But the shit right here aint what its about. I am done with yelling so sick of fighting while at times thinking our lives are like an unwinning battle. I am ready to snape on the verga to crack, them weak ass bastards too away something so precious I may never get back.
Our lives are hard leaving the decitions we make seem to be harder. The thing I miss most is being my little girls father.
While not promissed today, never tommorrow. It’s hard for oneself to say which road to follow. I tryed all the drugs to ease the sorrow but we always come back down to fall tomorrow.
They don’t even know me all there worried is haveing someone to blame. As they stood up quickly to allow themself’s to play gods game. Sentence to life in a new & hatefull world full of nothing but missery & pain while we men away in our cells. I say to myself wake me up out of this bad dream but never does it happen. So I beg them to please stop, stop there twisted sick game & let there needle bite my vaine B/C after all this you know life would never be the same.