Hell In Existence

I've been dormant, haven't wrote since

I was alone in the cold. Since,

I was 18 years old, shit.

Just hopin' that I'd find hope is

It real or a hoax wished

I could hold it with closed fists

For eternal moments, and never open to let go of it.

But, the older I grow I sense I will not get ahold of shit.

Listen close, my hardships holds it grip.

And I know I've only told of bits.

But my hopelessness just grows it's wit

Doesn't leave me unnoticed the older I get.

My Father died 55 years old, it was Father's day.

Tossed in a grave, and I'm sorry was all I could say.

As I pause the tape, and relive that awful day.

I realize all I brought was pain

Bmasterz last words to his Father, cast hurt

"Hate you! I hate you, Ed. I'm going far away.

Hope you die in an awful way cause of my agonizing pain"

Called him by his name, gave him all the blame

Cause I was an awful untamed, I've got problems man.

My face getting red, his face filled with dread.

Words laced with messed up phrases I let

Go. Tainted with hatred, regret.

"I love you, son."

As I packed my bags,"Bye Dad, I'm glad I'm leaving, believe in that!"

Weeks, didn't talk to him after.

Sleeping on my mattress after taking pills in the bathroom.

Window started crackin' with fists, words lashing,"Brandon something has happened!"

I woke up in a daze, drugs had me in a daze.

Tugged the door by it's frame, mom's cheeks were pink and stained.

"You're Father passed, he died today."

Slammed the door shut with force, fuck.

Fell to my knees in hurt, crushed.

Pain coursed up, mind numb unsure of.

"Is this happening?"

No! Of course not. It's these purple drugs, but I had poor luck.

Feeling like the worst son in the world, worst person born on the Earths crust.

I went months without talking, months without talking.

It's been years feeling off it's...

My life. I cried at night, and the night after. "God why?!"

When he died, I died. I can't rewind time

And catch the sight of him one last divine time.

I caught sight of him outside of his casket, dead body in sight

Me, an addict, looked at him in the coffin he lied.

He laid stiff and frozen. I lie at night choked up, sick, and broken.

This happened, not a sick joke. I'm not joking.

His laugh, jokes, wit, craftiness. I will never let go of it.

People say to get over it

But I don't have a bridge to get over this.

Depression settings, it's been sitting, upsets me

Regressing, letting me know I wrecked him.

I'm a worthless infection, with no purpose, no message.

Everybody left since he left. Sit

In my room and talk to myself

Feeling nothing but still feeling hell.

Spirits crushed, no strength to lift myself.

Reclining mental health, been years since I've been feeling well.

That day fucking kills me still.

Other problems I've caught when I still wanted to kill me here.

Bmasterz, why haven't you recorded?

Cause my personal life has left me cursed with

No inspiration or words to fit how I feel worthless.

No matter how many words, verses I spit.

Just want to be in a hearse or sent

Burning in an oven burnt to crisps.

Bmasterz to ashes, blood in me courses with

No spirit or soul, I'm sure I've quit.

Been broke, homeless, hungry, no bed to lay my head on

At the end of my rope, feeling like I need to head home.

To the place where my dad's soul went, my life has no motion

Silence, but commotion when I'm closing my eyelids.

Hoping I'm dying, sulking, crying, emotions piling

Coasting through life with

Burdens, no why to why I'm alive. Choking on my

Life's moments, realizing I know this

Emptiness won't be filled again.

Pen full of ink but not revealing it

I write a lot, but I'm not in the right mind to talk

Nor had the time to chalk up my life to y'all.

Mental illness revealing B's finished with the pen

But still feeling like pinnin' my feelings, my intents, my memories.

I'm sickened. My history is ill with my will to be unwilling to be living.

Simmerin' while sinnin', demons spilling evil ideas-spinning.

See, I remember when I reached in my little kit.

Of knifes, lifted a sharpened blade to my wrists again

Just sitting not wanting to feel again.

Blood dripping minds numbing, with my life running to a different existence.

I'm not well. My thoughts, I just run from them.