Bloody Knuckles

Anoyther day passes as we grow older it seems to me that one day this may be over. Cause life seems to furiosly pull away at me beckoning with money and maturity. But I'm not deterred this is my place and this is where I'll stay. I'll stay. Try and take it away from me and I will swing till my knuckles bleed. It's all been done before everything is so old. My ideals are merely romanticized dreams so I'm told. I clutch to what I believe but the opposition is crushing it seems impossible to not concede. It's hard to escape the feeling I'm destined for nothing. It's hard to escape the sentiment my voice means nothing. Everyday I stare the same dillemma in the face every path in front of me is thread barren. Marginalized and minimized I won't lose my grit. Disillusioned and disenfranchised still I resist. Give me one ounce of something worth fighting for and I will scratch and claw until my fingers are no more. This is where I stand in my place where I'll stay. Try to take it away and I will swing until my knuckles bleed.