I am god; I am the peddler of these token black angels you adore. I let them rest upon your mind as I paint upon them, vividly. Images that you compose of the words that I release from my hand these words; I tried to paint them with images of passion and conviction the things that I feel we should all live up to. You all read them, you heed my words, you follow the advice I spew forth from my soul. I want you to find the solution before the problems appear. I am god and I know the problems you wish you had answers to. These angels that fly across your eyes as I soak them within my soul and wrap them around my mind, Wet bandages soaked in alcoholic brews. I lay them across your scars and check for a reaction. Maybe it’ll sting; maybe it’ll help heal it without pain. I am only god within these words, a place where I can feel as if I can control the outcome of each story and line. Outside of these words, I am just another teenager.
I live a life that I feel as if it is a movie where I am the only character and for the past years I’ve been looking for main roles. Everything is flashing, I sit upon a chair reminiscing on the times and journeys. As I look back and stare down into myself looking for an answer to “what happened?” looking back on my life. I find regrets. Those were my choices I have become who I am so I cannot be mad.