My life is a story,
So hold on for all what’s left of me—
For I write and illustrate,
Still it collects dust as we speak.
God doesn't favor me,
It's the mind that bleeds—
Not enough catharsis?
Not enough bliss?
Monarchs and kings,
The wealthy and their kin—
I just stand and rot.
Not enough? I thought.
An outsider to this forbidden world,
A provider to laugh at? To shout at?
The only friends I have left
Are the voices in my head—
Not the cannibals waiting for fresh meat.
So at last, I plead:
Read my story before you judge.
Rate it fairly, I won't hold a grudge.
It’s worse to be nothing—
Better to be something,
To inspire before I expire.
a memory is all im asking
a place in your mind
my true self, no masquerading
It's worse to be something.
It's best to be nothing—
To be nothing but another
Unfortunate victim
To this empty world....