I age, aging perpetually,atrophying immensely, lost in a world.

A world so obscure, how could it ever come to be. In a world so prodigious, in a world with many country’s, and in a world overpopulated.

Will there ever be a miraculous miracles I say. A miracle that opens the eyes of mine. A miracle that is worth the view and time.

how is it that a big gigantic world with no free will. I am a wanderer, I am no begger, I don’t know what the other side is like.

I live but not to live, I see, but none see the presence of me.

I have been implemented in a universe that is not fond of me. With populations reaching to the billions, I have still not found a person, nor has an individual found interest in me.

So I get lost, over contemplate, times are exceedingly rough, especially without that figure, that companion, that person to lean to and trust.

Dwelling in an endless world , with possibilities to the firmaments, most definitely that is what keeps us alive. It’s what keeps me breathing, pondering, and hating.

The life of mine an infliction upon humans. Constantly being excluded, not included, consitently being looked down on, belittled, no one seems to care. It all began as a child, learning in classrooms, although learning what exactly.

Not having people to toss and turn to when times get rough is agonizing. I tend to fill my own head with absurd thoughts. Not being able to be comforted is the worst.

Being labeled as a corpulent most certainly inflicts excruciating pain. I have the thought, rather the intuition, highly suggesting people like to excruciate amongst others.

such a poignant life, tossing and turning in my own head. I don’t feel sane, I don’t feel that I have ever clinged towards sanity. It’s rather acrimonious, I’m placed in circumstances that thwart me.

Who do I blame for these faults, these flaws, was it the world or was it my existence. At times clinging to an individual seems just the right step to take.

It seems so efficient because it bellows sanity in a subtle way.

It’s a depiction of a furtive man concealing his hardships, hiding them so no one recognizes he’s wrong and a perennial failure.That man is me, oh how life has been, not at all prosperous,

I conceal my self from public areas, I’m embarrassed. It seems to me that the inauguration of my life has just been somthing of catastrophic pain.

I’m clinging but to what, their was never no one there.As I grown, I recognize their are more than I, more living the life of a subordination, subhuman being,

we don’t change, or at least we try to alter, though the world looks upon us in a manner with contempt, I have grown to live, although I don’t not live to grow.

It just happens, I’ve become weary over the past 2 decades. Strolling in areas that are poverty stricken. Getting a mere glimpse at local communities, it’s all contaminated with hatred.

People now days have regressed, many people within these impoverished communities contain predispositions to the thousands. It’s a physiological occurrence, they were placed as me, they lived like me, we are all living, the world walks, but does not walk with me.

Can time be recognized, by a 3d dimensional being such as me. It’s very complicated, life has bombarded me with many complications. It seems to arduous to complete, I have become osticancy. Walking in the street on fervent ave, their seems to a brawl happening, leering at this brawl has a adolescent. A child not of age, seemingly, and a barbaric individual, composed of tattoos