Why am I always thinking about the times that I waste but does good.

How many people are ******* tonight?

How many people are shooting dope tonight?

How many dying on the streets with only a dime in their pocket?

Too many people are starving tonight.

Too many children died tonight.

How does the coffin maker feel when he makes graves
about the size of a human being that should be in a crib?
Still the days go on, and the mother hears cries but
she wakes up with no one beside her.

The day goes on and I’m still here and I’m doing fine thanks.
but when the night comes and you’re still alone,
do you pull the trigger? Or dig out of the hole?