All I want to do is create.
I don't want to go to work and come home late
But I must have food on my plate and I must pay my rent.
Fucking shit.
When my stomach is growling and the first of the month growls louder.
When I create I can feel the power
But the power is only good for followers and likes.
That power won't help when they turn out the lights.
My mic, my art, my lyrical prowess
The landlord, ConEd, Sprint could care less
The stress.
Will I die alone and broke?
Surrounded by artwork and a book of quotes?
Secretly, I hope.
Then they'll know
-TD
These are The Last Days of Dark
No comments:
Post a Comment