Next Life Time
I prey when I wake up
I’ll be a Lamborgini
Electric rock rap god
I’ll prey to a god
That when I am to be risen
This poem was pulled directly from a notebook discovered flapping on a blustery and frigid sidewalk corner at 54th and 10th Avenue in January. Many of the other scrawled thoughts provide a sad glimpse into the mind of someone who is presumably struggling with mental illness.
To help a fellow New Yorker access mental health resources contact https://omh.ny.gov/.
Note: The trash items in NYCTrashStories are never touched or manipulated, but simply captured in their current state upon being passed by.
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