dreaming was blood spilled from my throat, and
hoping is in the gutter between success and self-sabotage,
but none of it was ever made for me.

do i look like a kid with a big hole in his shoe? or
do i look like a man with a big hole in his world? or
do i look like an unfinished prose to you?

we're all empty baskets meant to be filled with apples,
but sadly, some are tall and some are broke,
and i'm too short to reach the fruit.

does it mean orange can't bring food to your basket?
what else can't red and yellow do alone
when they can make orange together?

but we all have...