Spilled Ink

A piece of soul in ink, and unto the paper it spilled. A collection of thoughts that rhyme from a wandering mind.

Why? A book of Poems.

A puppet of society. All I know, live, and breathe is the fact that there is a rainbow behind this treacherous storm. Life is hard. All I feel is nothing. All I think is death. All I do is die. I don't want to live here, like this, doing something I don't want to do. I'm not free because I am a puppet. A puppet of so...