ByMike Ryan Clark, writer at Creators.co

All I hear are the sounds of distant cannons, all you hear are applause. You taint and spoil the land, you play pretend and dress up and get paid millions just for a look. The characters you portray spin off into some distant other reality, soon you will not even know who you are. If you could make a movie of my life, trust me, it would haunt and stick and stay and I have the scars to prove it. Instead, I keep to the shadows, doing God's work and trying to help all the people I can. They matter, not Hollywood people. Hollywood people have never had to sleep under a bridge in freezing temperatures like my cousin Jerry. Hollywood people have never been hit by an amtrak train, losing a leg and some spine like my warrior cousin Lou. Hollywood people have never stood on the edge, arms bleeding, tears flowing, screaming God's name! I have. My family, all but gone. Just me, Michael Ryan Clark, and my homeless mother drinking herself to death. When she goes, I am the last Clark standing. All I have ever known is chaos and calamity. Yet I hold on to love, and hope, and trust. Hollywood, stay far away in dream land, we need characters to play us one day....

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