So

I'm awake again, fucker,
against all odds, slept on some
floors sometimes, with eyes wide open.
Up in the 3rd in a sled then a bunk,
locked in a cage, on the concrete
for the cause, thought I could change
me some and the world some neither one happened.

I'm the filthy, guilty son.
I'm the one pleading every time,
I plead no contest, as always
just deal with consequence.

I'm aware, fucker,
by the likes of you, I can't be judged.

I've been places where you're meant to be restless,
where it's cold as hell, and you hope
to be wreck less
seats where you learn to sleep sitting up
I'm awake, fucker,
I'm alive.

I'm going easy now, but life isn't easy now
my thoughts always racing,
always stressed and stuff, feeling guilty
guess I survived.

I'm still around, fucker,
certified recovered,
guess I'm better, but the goings still rough.
Rather laugh than cry, so I keep rolling
maybe some day I'll feel more love than loss.

Death in its entirety or to live fully. Punk as fuck