(no subject)
my father once called me a madman, pain and fear in his eyes. what had his beloved son become. a walking skeleton, a death only temporarily postponed. what will you do, he asked, when there is nowhere left to run?i didnt know. he begged me to leave town, to never come home. this is whAt its come to. hiding like a street punk coward, in the last place anyone would ever look, the halls of higher education. this or death? i trade my life for my life. i forsake myself to save myself. i should have died on those streets. i should have let my city eat me soul. and yet, here i sit, a student, eager young mind. my voice is at long last lost in the crown. i am not infamous anymore. will this turn bring my desperately desired peace, or the long awaited misery of final, utter defeat. i hope, at least one day, my father will be able to smikle when he looks at me. knowing i didnt fail at everything. knowing i really didnt die, so long ago, somewhere beneath