The joy that should be there 
is found torn, a part of happiness 
is infected by the cancer i once had. 
Self-Destruction of a world 
many view as a time for laughter and parties 
i continue to live in the world 
of the one who plagued it with his own infectious hate.

Loyalties trumped by deceit 
rides shotgun seat of a car 
fueled by a liter of whiskey, 
cushions the impact of this vehicle 
who’s breaks are cut.

Going to fast to slow down 
i hit every pot hole on life street, 
my enteral gps leads me through the roads 
im most scared to travel. 
The last choice i make ends me up at a cross road.

I am just man,

nothing more or less then what i provide. 
Yearning to live that fairy tale life. 
The fairy tales never read to the boy i was, 
so i create horror stories. 
The only ones that i know, 
seen by a man who is less then giving.

He develop my childhood, 
creating the a world thats captive by chains 
in a mind that wants, needs and calls for 
nothing less than great.

The boy becomes the man 
not because he says he is 
but because of how he had to 
over come what other men in his life showed him how to act. 
Thank you for showing the boy who not to be. 
Thank you for making me fight to become a better man. 
Nothing like what you have done for me.