Rock bottom feels too much like my bed lately.
And the smell of beer on my breath is too familiar.
Who is this person I'm walking around as and when did I start wearing masks?
I'm given unfathomable mercy for my mistakes and I keep making them.
The same ones.
I take the same knife and rip openings in my chest to breath in the poison I've been mistaking for oxygen.
I'm dying.
I'm walking down streets with my eyes closed with the assumption that someone else will stop this car from hitting me.
Why am I on this street anyway?
The same street where I lay homeless and abandoned before I had been saved.
AND THE BEST PART
Now that I have been saved I keep walking down the same street as if I was looking through the same eyes I was before.
It's much harder to breath wearing a mask, and much harder to see when I look through eyes that are blind to what this world really does....
**** me.