I feel like originality is dead,

And that the life I want, can't keep me fed.
All these dreams fill my head with countless hours of useless dread.
All words to be written, already said.
Sitting here alone in my bed, I start to wonder.
No sounds to fill the void but the rain and thunder.
There's a storm, and I don't want to be apart of the norm.
Socially awkward, I do my best to carry on ward.
To speak up, and say what's on my mind.
Dealing with life on the grind.
The life I want feels like one I cant have.
Because it's one everyone wants.
To live free, and to die a legend.
Leaving my mark with photos and words.
Sometimes it feels like it'll never be heard.
Or seen.
Smart phones, send aches through my bones.
Ending creativity, and memories.
Hurting my heart, and killing dreams I've had from the start.
How will I ever make it out alive, to show my part.
To thrive. Living life through lenses, different places every night just trying to survive.
That's all I want. But It feels like I'll never be within reach, I want it. I need it. But will it ever be? Guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Curiosity killed the cat, and I'm fat, I take up too much space. and I'll be judged in the first place, probably before even making it to first base. I just want To rest my case, and prove you all wrong. I'll get what I want, and I'll find where I've always belonged.

Life on tour would never be a bore, chore after chore, whore after whore, night after night, me verses me will always be the biggest fight. but at the end of the day, it's all up to what the world around me has to say.