my heart can’t take the pain
it’s too much to even explain
shit happens for a reason
won’t know why for six more seasons
feeling helpless and all alone
people wonder why i hate going home
missing the old days of youth
there was less concern for knowing the truth
hate consumes much of my time
i still tell people that i’m fine
i guess i am in some ways it seems
i feel i’m getting closer to my dreams
bad memories and good make me feel alive
they are my everlasting drive
i’ll make it in life after so long
thanks to everyone who has done me wrong
i mean it in the sincerest way
without you i’d have nothing to say
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
James Pack 