Slowly losing hope.
Fresh out as I’m going broke.
I’m picking up but still falling behind. How much am I going to have to sacrifice? Because I’m tired of losing time.
Watching the days slip by.
It seems pointless getting up before the sunrise.
At this point I’d rather pop up my thumb
And hitchhike.
Leave this place behind.
If only I could leave my mind.
I try to find different ways to escape.
But after it’s all said and done.
I end up back in the same place.
Charcoal.
Ink.
Spray paint.
Things I use.
Only to get accused. Of running away.
Or presenting a pattern of being displaced.
With no option to plead my case.
Left with feelings of guilt & shame.
When that was not my intention.
I’m just trying to figure me out.
Before stray too far away.
From remaining sane.
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