**Under Construction**
I'm always hearing people say that there ain't no place on earth like New York. I guess I gotta believe them cause I've never been anywhere else. All I know is, it's the most Goddamn crowded place you could be at anytime. Shit, you'd think they'd charge money for the air you breathe cause it's in such low supply. What I'd do to just get outta here and breathe for once. Actually breathe.
My father never told me if my mother died or just left. I remember there being another one, a boy, younger than me. I only remember him when it's raining outside. In the sun, well it must be to hot for thinking. It was just me and my father for sometime, till I ran. I don't actually have a reason for running like I did. I just did. I haven't seen my father in seven years, but it don't really bother me. Not like I hated him or he hated me, we just didn't match. So, I'm a newsboy and I make just enough to live in a lodging house and eat every night. Selling papers comes naturally, as does hawking the headlines to get them sold. I learned just one thing and one thing only from my father 'cause; well he never really did anything but lie.
Everyday this voice in my head reminds me that I can't sell papers with my whole life. I'm going nowhere. I nearly eighteen and I still associate with ten-year-olds on a daily basis. Then this other voice keeps saying, "all you have to do is get on a train an go". There's an endless amount of fresh air on the other side of the country just waiting for me. Something won't let me leave. Something's keeping me back. No, it ain't just I'd leave behind. I could make more friends if I needed to and they don't me anyways. I have the money so there is nothing to stop me. I'm still here.
I watch the younger kids everyday. Some of them go day to day without a single care. In others, you can see their struggle. There's not much anyone can do to help though. There's the ones that work for their families and the ones that work for themselves. A lot of the other newsboys look up to me for something or other. On rainy days I understand why. On rainy days I know what's keeping me from leaving this shit-hole they call New York. I vaguely remember a younger brother. Yeah, but that's all gone now.
(I don't really know if I like this so please R/R!!! I'll go from there!)
I'm always hearing people say that there ain't no place on earth like New York. I guess I gotta believe them cause I've never been anywhere else. All I know is, it's the most Goddamn crowded place you could be at anytime. Shit, you'd think they'd charge money for the air you breathe cause it's in such low supply. What I'd do to just get outta here and breathe for once. Actually breathe.
My father never told me if my mother died or just left. I remember there being another one, a boy, younger than me. I only remember him when it's raining outside. In the sun, well it must be to hot for thinking. It was just me and my father for sometime, till I ran. I don't actually have a reason for running like I did. I just did. I haven't seen my father in seven years, but it don't really bother me. Not like I hated him or he hated me, we just didn't match. So, I'm a newsboy and I make just enough to live in a lodging house and eat every night. Selling papers comes naturally, as does hawking the headlines to get them sold. I learned just one thing and one thing only from my father 'cause; well he never really did anything but lie.
Everyday this voice in my head reminds me that I can't sell papers with my whole life. I'm going nowhere. I nearly eighteen and I still associate with ten-year-olds on a daily basis. Then this other voice keeps saying, "all you have to do is get on a train an go". There's an endless amount of fresh air on the other side of the country just waiting for me. Something won't let me leave. Something's keeping me back. No, it ain't just I'd leave behind. I could make more friends if I needed to and they don't me anyways. I have the money so there is nothing to stop me. I'm still here.
I watch the younger kids everyday. Some of them go day to day without a single care. In others, you can see their struggle. There's not much anyone can do to help though. There's the ones that work for their families and the ones that work for themselves. A lot of the other newsboys look up to me for something or other. On rainy days I understand why. On rainy days I know what's keeping me from leaving this shit-hole they call New York. I vaguely remember a younger brother. Yeah, but that's all gone now.
(I don't really know if I like this so please R/R!!! I'll go from there!)