Mama yongue

you've had to watch all your friends die through cataracts, pain, and fucking styes.
and now you hate your life and anytime you start to cry and when I leave i think "will I ever see her again?" can she hold on with fleets and xanax?
i lean over and give you a kiss no longer "sugar" now crusty lips.
you still pray to your good god, good god this is hell.
I'm never gonna get that way (it's so goddamn sad)