Im lucky,
When I fall on the stairs,
My bones seem to heal,
Its rare that I find myself worrying,
where I am gonna find my next meal..
I got people that care,
who live nearby,
Ready to support me,
in whatver I try..
from the day they met me,
to they day they die……..
but still,
I continue to ask myself why…
I feel incomplete,
My soul has become aware of my minds indeceit….
How can The weight of my etheral figre,
Feel so heavy on my feet…??
I don’t know,
Whether the fuck I should stay here or go,
im in a boat waiting for someone else to row…
the soil seems dead to the seeds I have tried to sew…
fuck can it really it really be true,
that ‘Wednesdays child is full of woe’?
if it is,
at least,
I got a motorbike,
which refuses to go slow……
im lucky
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