~I had to work myself up to this. I don't even know what this accomplish, this is a type of writing exercise I do sometimes to make poetry.

1st//
"This is one of the reasons I'm where I am now. I can say truthfully that I have no friends, and I'm starting to think I never did have any. Everyday I lose something, weather its more confidence, some small bit of hope, will power, even health. Everyday I feel further and further away from everything, nothing is fair and my hate for the daily bullshit grows.
What do you do with yourself when you have lost everything that was important to you?
I hate asking for help, but I always tried to be helpful.
I could sit right where I am, all day and no one would call or come. Not that I want to see anyone anyway; nobody can be trusted. Family is weak and liars and friends are just so to be powerful enemies. Cheated out of work, crumbling home, all while the temperature rise."

2nd//
~I hate messing someone else's day up, because bleed problems too. Probably the reason that I'm here, is cuz I probably bled for you.
I thought truth was in friendship, and I was left for dead. Now I'm up, and I'm searching; but those fuckers fled.
 Rummaging through the rubble that my life's into. No hope, no power and my health's almost threw.

 Everyday I'll be burning, got no trust and no sermon I don't even want any help! I rather burn here in hell! These are the reasons I'm listing if you fuckers are listening, getting cheated from missions, like "get the fuck out the kitchen!"

Oh the manic ass black fool, he's trying to run facts dude.
oh suppose to be stupid? and let you fools up and juke me?
You can fuck yourselves! And I'll see you in hell, with the confidence that be at the ball room stairs! I'll be home again, my fucking crumbling hell, the reason why I'm here and then it begins again.~