I am a loser. By every definition of the word I am a loser. Even now while typing this I still choose to be a loser. To second guess what, how, or if I should type this and cower at the thought of being raw because I don’t want to appear week.

By every facet of the word that’s some loser shit. I’m tiered of not living-and that’s not something money just solves. I honestly am I don’t know

I don’t know what to say

I don’t know who I am

I don’t know why it i I truly do all this

I say I want to change and help but what have I done with my new found fortune

I say I want to be better but I smoke even with a hole in my mouth

I say I wanna Love but I choke stumble and shake at the thought of looking a fool for it

I don’t know what it is I do know

I don’t know what I don’t know

A part of my heart just feels empty

not cold or broken

just empty

and I fill it and I try and I do and I try and I do

but for how long can a weary soul barer the burden of being misunderstood

I wanna be seen

I wanna be held

I wanna be loved

as I Love