I told you no one would want you

Only the dead beat losers

With babies that came from woodlock.

I told you.

You were born poor

With a poor spirit.

There is no escape.

You were born into hell.

You feel that??

That feeling of hopelessness.

The same thing you continue to attract.

The boredom.

The stagnancy.

The uninspired.

Continue to stand still as the world is moving around you.

You’re sick.

Eternally…

Emotionally.

Can you be cured?

Is there any hope left?

When did this happen?

Or was it always there?

Dormant.

You hate yourself

And everything around you.

You hate your life.

But not the people in it

Because they remind you

A little hope is good.

Just enough hope to get you out of bed everyday.

Just enough hope to keep you excited until you find the next best thing to distract you.

They remind you…

That you aren’t dead yet.