RestForTheWicked

Ain't no such thing as rest for the wicked... or is there?

I'm 22 years old I live in a small town in Washington St. I'm on a rock called Whidbey island, Ive lived in 4 different states in my short life. Ive driven solo across the country, Ive been married and divorced. Ive lost and Ive won, Ive been broken and damned. But every morning I wake up, I'm still breathing I'm still walking. Rest is not a friend of mine, I have many foes and a great group of friends. I have people that only wish hurt and problems for me. I drink, smoke and chew. I'm sometimes classy and sometimes country.

Wicked, that's what id call my time on this earth. I don't spend a minute of my day wishing anything was different. Ill admit I sure wish somethings were different, but still push on. The people I spend my time with are all from different walks of life. Some pure and some pure evil. I hear most people complying about every damn thing. My job sucks, I got no money, I hate my friends, I don't have enough... and so on. Rest for the wicked comes from the impurities and lack of judgment from those around me. I'm wicked, I'm dirty, and i ain't to clean. I rest my head in the serenity of my world, not yours but mine.

I don't mean any of this as a complaint or a shot at anyone person or stereotype. I mean this for my own pleasure and my own wicked thoughts. The wicked will rest when those around us simply fail at there own cost.