by Scrappy

(It's really dark in here...... it's so hard to see...... feels like everything is closing in pressure problems where do I go every direction I crash) Where would I be if it wasn't for this lady when I was 14 saying I'd never be nothing or watching a suicidal pact synchronize the day they die by wrist cutting where would I be if you never over dosed me locked me in a room dying hyperventalating, sweating, throat dry, thirsty. In the basement my mother yelling down all she would do is curse me, I sat in the dark writing poetry, physically holding back everything praying for the pain to let go of me. Where would I be started running away back in 72 - 73, 4 , 5, years old somebody touching me nobody would of known of the stress that was facing me flip the thing over protected so kats can't carbon copy they can't think on there own can't breath wit out me always talkin but don't know a thing about me relentless thought the fight but the battle still endless, friendless trusting wouldn't recommend it no matter what side you turn it a, b the vibe be chokin you beggin for somebody to come and rescue you felt by runaways on 5th avenue even in the dark my words be grabbin you where would I be if I wasn't a slave environment free? Where would I be if it wasn't for the poetry, livin in the streets, stomach cramps from being hungry struggling every night live or die suicide from being to lonely trusted to many phonys no layaway plan and you can't rent to own me IMAGE felt strongly.

Image by Scrappy

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