Aug 16 Poem by Steven Stocker

I cant rap, I cant rhyme, although I do it all the time.
I'm blessed with this life, but i waste it like a crime
I'm selfless with possessions, its yours not mine
I'm under the impression that I'm missing all the signs

Forget the times I was mean, though now it feels alright
Push it further down my brain, till I feel it on my spine
Give myself some weight, and then redden up my eyes
Theres pills for that, or anything, if you teach yourself to cry

Close my eyes so I'm blind to everything I see
Ignoring the people and events unfolding around me
Block my ear off too, so I cant hear anything
the loneliest abyss population only me.

If you want to see a knife, I have one like dundee
I could show you how to stab, then teach you how to bleed.
Life is what you make it. Either something or nothing.
Show up, work, sit down, and then leave.