So often times, I’m doing something.
It is nice to do nothing.
The human machine is not meant to work all of the days.
But so often times, I look for praise.
Often, I write, this is my release.
Locked in my mind are other chambers.
I often find the words and writing to be the keys.
Often, I run and it feels like I have a bad heart.
I hear it hurting while it squirts blood through vessels.
I often feel I work too hard and will die young.
But, I feel my life just starting to begin.
No, that cannot happen.
I beg to my supreme being.
See that I am reborn, and that I want more life.
I often take for granted things like life.
But we don’t live life twice, and I just want to live mine right.
