"Some days are harder than others, each minute like my heart stutters and I turn down the shutters.. I have no mom, no pops, and no brothers. Not a single family left, they were all too deaf period, it was scary when I left but as it stands I don't even have any friends.. not a soul to talk with, no extra lips to wine sip.. I have nobody who makes me smile, just empty nights crying on the tile. But it's ok, cause I need nobody.. I know you all see me as a nobody, scummy me always writing about love when I can't get none. I'm fine, give me a minute.. I only get one try at this life and I want to live it right, but when night comes.. so does the curse, it gets worse and worse as if I will burst into flames for even having a name when I should be in chains. I have no home but an eight by eight prison cell, all alone all the time deep in my own personal hell and damn.. did my neighbor die cause I can't stand the smell, if he didn't then I wonder why not. This place will rot you to the core on the spot only to do it more and more.. but I'm a whore for pain, I guess even thought I don't want it, and to top it all off this place is haunted. 127 have died here in 7 years and everyone cries here. We are despised by society, but that doesn't surprise me.. and all I truly want in life is to be happy and spread the smiles on like peanut butter on bread. This place plays with my head, the space that complains that I'm alive when it wants me dead.. it's ok though cause part of me is covered by a Halo, so so blessed by the supreme payload. Hey, no.. where'd my day go?? As I try to stop smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, gone with the meat and dairy here.. it's scary in the projects for most, but me.. I walk around all streets at night and nothing happens to me except I meet a lot of people who are nice to me, but only cause they want something. And I'm nice 95% of the time, the other 5 I'm wishing that I would die by the end of the night.. the bridge has a great view, careful not to slip off the edge cause I would get real wet real quick and I might even meet the mistress death. But I'm ok, I am or why would I say it.. my life isn't worth spit, shit, or the splashes when my slit wrists begin to drip. I'm a ghost, a host to the most evil and good. I could never be understood, but I can be stood on like a human doormat made of the stuff that needs hazmat.. I need not a soul, my wings are made of coals, my horns made of a crystal ball full of rules. I'm ok, truly I am.. it's just my life that I can't stand, cause the master plan is damned if it do, damned if it don't.. and that is why my soul seems to have broke, so broken, hope?? You must be joking.."
