Again

I fell again. I just have to get back up and brush it off again. Looks like it's back to the books again. Plotting and scheming a way out. Desperate in my ways, and still cant figure it out. Prayed to God, and still dont know what this city is about. And here I am again, stuck once again, amidst this nine to five. And here I am again, pulling my hair out pondering another way to survive. And here I am again, watching this clock roll over half past five. We dont realize, until it's too late, that life comes at us fast. I must let the past be past and find another way before mine ends with a shotgun blast. I cant go back to these streets, or I'll just find my mother at my mass. How long can this tunnel be? Who could know what its like to be me? Born in America and still I wonder: What is it like to be free? I have this worldly sized burden on my shoulders. It gives me headaches like death by raining boulders. Look in my eyes, and see nothing by determination and a desperate hold of my composure. I bleed my heart though this pen. Knowing that life will never be what it was again. Sick of kneeling over in tears crying out amen. Realized I have to take it by my own hand. Before I work myself to death by my own hand. Need to put this gun down before I go to jail by my own hand. I'll go back to the books again. I'll get back up and brush it off again. I won't fall again.