Some of us were meant to be surrounded by friends.
Some of us were meant to feel love, and care, and affection.
But a small handful of people
Were meant to be alone
To bear the weight of the souls, left in the dark.
She asks me why I drink.
I tell her, so I can smile.
Not knowing what she really means.
She asks me why I smoke.
I tell her, so I can breathe.
Not knowing why she feels alone.
She asks me why I cry.
I tell her, so I don’t get mad.
Not knowing she feels just as sad.
She asks me why I left.
I can’t speak.
As the bullet travels through my head.
