Grind

 Never has real life mirrored paper
BLANK
I have no thoughts
Cause they all seem to be borrowed
BLANK 
Like my bank account
Been unemployed four months now
And I am still grinding
Small insignificant me
Never except hand outs
Always cost something
So even if all four tires are flat
I am still grinding 
Hitting pavement
And I am still going
Fly past ghosts in the night
Fly by old churches where i lost my faith
Fly by people who said who would be there for me
And I am BLANK
Yet my mind is so full of questions
Some days I feel like I am having existential debate
With the devil
And the only time I feel good
is when I live in these letters
They form words
Which form sentences
And since I have been sentenced to this life
I must be blessed
Cause I am still grinding
Pulling myself out of almost's
Almost homeless
Almost mental
Almost there for me
Almost visited me in the mental hospital
Almost figured out who my real family is
And the only time I feel at home
Is when I pick up a mic
And the only time I feel alive
Is when I write.....
So I can't give up