untitled

an old prose i had to write for a class

I live in a world where dreams don't exist

Where freedom is privilege to the rich

Where lives end with a single breath

Where if i look different i'm weird and dangerous

Some people pray to die

Some people pray to live

The lucky ones are the dead ones

Who have left this hellish place

I always wonder if i'm a lucky person

I have freedoms beyond what most people can imagine

But if i'm a lucky person why do i pray to die

End this life, to leave this place

Maybe if i leave this place i can dream

I can hope