So much for living, so much for life,

Every damn day I continue to fight.

Clock keeps moving, I’m standing still,

Worn-down body, borrowed will.

You don’t see it, you can’t comprehend,

You talk in circles, I’m at the end.

You say “it gets better,” like that’s a plan,

Open your eyes—see the state I’m in.

I don’t need sermons or sympathy,

Don’t need promises I can’t spend.

I need something solid under my feet,

Not another way to pretend.

I don’t need hope or “try your best,”

I need money, food, a place to rest.

My soul is weary, my feet are tired,

Every smile here’s a loaded wire.

You talk about dreams like they’re free to give,

I’m just trying to afford to live.

Streetlights flicker like they’re giving up,

Same old faces, same bad luck.

Everyone’s selling something fake,

Even the truth has a price to pay.

The people around me are thieves and liars,

Clean hands, dirty desires.

They shake your hand, look you dead in the face,

Then count what they took when you walk away.

You say “stay strong,” like strength pays rent,

Like grit keeps the lights from getting cut.

I’ve burned through all the patience I had,

Now I’m just trying not to run out of blood.

I don’t need hope or “try your best,”

I need money, food, a place to rest.

My soul is weary, my feet are tired,

Every promise here’s a funeral fire.

You talk about faith like it feeds the skin,

I’m just trying to survive the state I’m in.

If I stop moving, I start to sink,

If I start thinking, I can’t breathe.

I learned real fast what the world respects:

What you can take and what you can keep.

I didn’t ask for mercy or a clean slate,

Just a fair shot and a little space.

But fairness never learned my name,

And space costs more than I can make.

I don’t need hope, I don’t need prayer,

I need something real, not words in the air.

My soul is weary, my feet are torn,

I wake up tired, I’m not reborn.

If living’s more than staying alive,

Someone show me—I’ve been trying.

Don’t tell me it’s all gonna work out.

Show me.