would you rather live forever or try to figure this shit out now?

Been living of the kindness of strangers for a long time, for I am a bum, I am a child. Just a child – forced to grow and bear the crosses of life, this life, this world where everyone has grown-up and left me behind, to raise myself, to deal.  A life, this rough, thorned life I wasn’t even suppose to have, the gritty loneliness, the gray dullness, the slickly sweat because of the summer sun of houses with boarded-shut windows. No, this is not supposed to be mine, never has been. I was created for better, I’m entitled for the world – a better, softer place. But I’m scared, of course. I’m just a kid, a mental kid, a lion that, even with the cage door forgotten wide open, is scared to go outside. I have no bones, no hard nothing. So here I am, right here, just look at me. Notice me. Touch me while I’m curled up in a ball, feed me, be my daddy, take me somewhere. Give me your kindness or your pity, I don’t mind. Beggars cannot be choosers and I’ve been a beggar my whole time. My whole existence is a mouthful of want, a handful of gap between the things I need and the things I receive. Existence is only fleeting, let me tell you, and long gone mine is, I guess. But I’m starving. I’m craving, give it all to me, your sweet nothings and your forevers so I can live. Or not. Please, go away, take your shit with you, do it.

For I shall contend until the last breath. I shall strive.

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