dead sleep

from by storyteller



Sometimes I wish I were deceased, collecting flowers every week, for admirations I desperately seek, maybe even celebrated, lately I've just been jaded, like I've lost myself a soul segregation, and sometimes the words I speak mean nothing, I can only speak for myself, with no concern for wealth, in these short years that I've lived, just now I've learned to persist in the struggle of existence, in these short years that I've lived I've realized the purpose, that you'll never know


from growing pains, released February 4, 2014



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storyteller Kitchener, Ontario

passion - frustration - love

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