Sad Boy 🥀

What do I do?

Like Billie Holiday said, “I am not meant to be a call girl.”  I need something that worlds lives off, such as sex and the green paper. This action and items, I am not fond off at all. I place my heart in hopeless in romanticism and dreaming about the new American dream. Yesterday night, it was midnight with the covered the blinds of windows. I finished my teaching course and passed every inch of the material. Yet I was sad. A silent sense of discontent occurring in the sensitive body. Wrecking memories of last days at home. Compared to a being of evilness towards infants and the innocent. I am a disappointment. What can I do? Running around like a lost child on the streets of snow lines and smoky windows on the side and greeds lives inside. Disappointment again runs and having eyes that are crying. I love so, you want me dead or alive? You choose my father. I don’t care. I know this life is not worthless but baring the pain of this dark shadow never goes away in my dying days. So the river of tears run every night and till my last breath. 

It is the time where people are highly encouraged to be “who they are.”  It is the June 25th of 2019. How does my day look worrying every day if the bills are going to get paid when $1.10  in the bank account? I grew up too quickly, but everyone would blame me on this. I do blame myself; these were the consequences. Most of the day I just wonder in a tiny empty house. Four walls hear the cries and shame and regret. The whisper in halls that say you won’t able make it out alive. I deadly stare at those blue pills and say to myself, just remember everything will be over. The disappointment, stress, money, hatred. Rumors are the ruined of a reputation that’s a fact. I play Billie Holiday, and she is the only one who understands.  It might be stupid as the burning flames of hell, but that’s it is perceived to me. All those artists that listen, I know where I come from. I mean I grew up a pretty lovely family, but I always felt left out. My mother went over the apartment, I believe that she smelled the scent of cigarette. I mean, I tried to cover it, but it still came back. She said something but brushed it off.  I’m working and going to school and trying my best to strive in this mean world. It is getting pretty tricky. I always recommend staying with your parents. Don’t be like this. A stubborn soul with hopeless dreams of love and music in a soundless place and broken heart.   What can I do? What can I do?