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Trash, Smashed paper on the street That means nothing to the world old woren out objects
that set on the floor and rot on the spot they lay, like the waste from a toxic truck that
no one botherd to clean up

My life is like this a bundle of muck and iam the toxic from the truck that is looked at
like the unclean man who has nothing but his hands, Who greavels and kneels just to get
his next meal.

Today will be the last day iam treted like smut, voimit that was never cleaned up like a
comit I will riase to the stars to take my frist look at the path never took and I will
step on that road and look my last look at those who could of took a little more time to
unwind and see that the world dosen’t stop for just the, he, or she.

We to be as people stand who have been in the shadows who have never to understand why we
are looked at this way by the stright, bi, or gay.

we only wish to say what can’t be said by the lips of man to sip the cup that has not been
passed to are lips, to breath the air that was unmeant for are lungs to not being lashed
or just trash at are own families door. ~ Jeff

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