Now to start off this story--
There was a boy named Santy. He woke up every morning with a
great big smile on his face.
A great big pile of food on his plate. He and his family had a really
nice place, even though their house was small there was no crime rate,
this was the perfect estate.
Yet something felt wrong.
He would go to school but never got along.
All the kids would tell him ¨you really don’t belong.¨ The days were getting long.
Wondering if he was strong.
He can’t forget how they bullied him about his weight until he was anorexic, now they’re moving to the next kid.
Eight years later and he still won’t eat his breakfast.
His whole life started--
turned into a wreckage. And that’s real.
His uncle dropped dead from cardiac arrest, critical condition no time left.

Nothing prepared him for what was ahead:
This was my life.
When I got there I saw him gasping for breath on his hospital bed. He closed his eyes and I knew he had passed but my brain wouldn't accept--
I cried and I wept. I prayed for God to resurrect
but He rejected my request.
I was upset and depressed; I was only 13.

I battled through depression, finally found a girl and shared a true connection.
Didn't last long because she cheated for attention, four different incidents
I never learned my lesson.
And it's more than coincidence that I got an aggression.
I hated myself so much that I noticed imperfection.
That's why I looked in the mirror that night
and shattered my true reflection.
Went to middle school for two years
then I dropped it.
Always felt they spread rumors about me and they gossiped.
I knew I was a person
but they only saw a pothead.
So their thoughts about me were rotten, the things they said will never be forgotten.
A million times these people tried to stop me.
Often I contemplated 
if I took a shotgun
would my parents cry over the coffin of their lost son?
God?
I'm just looking for an answer.
After all You’re the one who really wrote the chapter.
I need to know what comes first and after.
I’m sick of waking  from sleep filled with anger.
I’m below standards, smoking so I die faster.
Even if I say again it doesn't matter.
The poor stay broke while the wealthy climb the ladder and I can see that life is nothing but a bad disaster.

That won't stop me.