Broke, hopeless, can’t even afford paper for my pen. So I write on these walls, many words of wisdom. My thoughts that consume my soul. My pain, that toggles my little brain. I sleep, eat, and breath poetry. What other choice do I have, when reality is too far for me to grab. My visions are impossible to stare at for a while. Anything three-demensional seems to crumble on approach. So I sleep on these streets. Whenever I get the chance to close my eyes, another song dies. Therefore I cry tunes that ruin lives, they stab my back like butcher knives. I’m bleeding underneath my skin, hoping that one day, I can get the chance to win. Hoping that one day, I can get the strength to leave. Hoping that one day, you will still be there with me. Help me turn these dreams into reality. Build me up, don’t let me fall. Hold me tight, make everything become alright.