story of myself

I know a man who's dead figuratively,
The drugs in his blood system keeps him from thinking,
That man lost his family the only one he knew,
he keeps his dreams wrapped in plastic,
who wants to know what it feels like,
feel the things i touch,
wipe the blood of my light,
it's all broken bones and open wounds that don't heal,
choking on my own fears,
drowning in my own tears,
fuck screaming to myself to make it trough another day.
But hey what a shame to judge a life you can't change.