[cursed]

my biggest fear
is that these words i craft
the worlds i draw
the stories i work so hard
to make stand so tall
will fall like rain on dead dirt
on ears too busy to care
on hurts too deep to repair
to give a damn about little words
from a little man
with empty hands
with no future
with no real plans
so here i stand
forever struggling
to say what needs to be said
to live when its easier to play dead
to tame these thoughts in my head
that will surely tear me to shreds
if they ever escaped my lips
or rolled down my cheeks
or seeped from my fingertips
so it seems my fate is set
to either implode from within
or commit a sin i could never forgive
some days i dont know whats worse:
to reside in the back of a hearse
or die every night in verse
i dont know what i did to deserve this
but this is my curse