Dying to Live

I’m dying.
With every second, minute, hour, and day.
Behind this reception desk for bullshit pay.
I’m dying.
To discover my voice, find my purpose, and see more of the world.
Why would anyone assume that I’m living?
When I have yet to feel alive?

 

Copyright 2016, All Rights Reserved.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s