Lydia

Anger? Crying. Depression? Crying. Hope? Crying. Love? Crying.

you’re always posting about some faggot shit

i’m a drunk, lord. i’m a liar. i am a thief, lord. i profit off the miseries of other men, and i do it easy. drugs, liquor, women. i-i-i lure them in and grab what they got, lord. i take daughters with no homes and i-i put em out on the street, lord, and i lie to myself saying i-i’m giving em roof and food and dollar bills in they pocket, but i look in the mirror, i know what i am. the big man in the big house, stuffin cotton in my ear so i can't hear their cries. and, lord, i dragged my family into this mess with me. I SHAME MY FATHER. i failed my brother. i lost my mother and sister, and rather than fix it like a man should, lord, i run like a coward. i run to the bottle. i run to the grift. i run to bad beds. i laid down with a MAN. i laid down with THE DEVIL. and he has ROOTS in me. all his SPINDLY ROOTS in me. AND I CAN'T THINK NOTHING ANYMORE BUT HIS VOICE AND HIS WORDS!! please. HELP MEEE! I AM WEAK!!! i wanna die.