struggling artist

I'm cold
my stomach hurts from hunger
wrapped in a blanket
its late December

no heat in this home
windows missing and such
impoverished to the tee
theres no one here to help
i think for a second to yell
but i know no one will hear
like that stupid tree in the forest
which everyone also cant hear

i know its mostly my fault
i was selfless and mis taught
i procrastinate a notion
yet I'm to depressed and strung out

ut-o

should have known
to follow threw on my studies
or to be a 9-5 junkie

I'm sorry to embarrass myself

but i have a dream to be creative
and not be a slave to industry
so ill play my drums
use my guitar and strum
film a old man sitting alone in a park
anything these days is modern art
not to be brainwashed from being stubborn

yet writers block has got me feeling useless
ill smoke another cigarette
god i wish this place had a furnace
wish my life to pieces and watch me fail
yet by failing i said fuck you!
to being another conformed sheep in the line
if that life suites you, well that's just fine

my mother would say
that ones better then mine

but I'm a dreamer mom and i wanna be unique
she said i think you need some help
ill check you in before you deplete
time is running out son
and your gunna be a bum

but mom I'm only twenty five
and i know i can make this work

give up on your dreams and join the real world

leave my shack now!!!

the writers block's gone

ill keep writing sad songs
and ripping from this bong
till the kid in me is dead

god that funeral i dread