You wandered down this path of death.
Though, I raised you just the best I could.
I felt your lungs lose their breath.
I held you tight, as my little boy.
I watched the drugs take all your joy.
You gave and gave until you had none left.
The "thoughts and prayers" that they all sent;
meant almost nothing when I sat and wept.
You took me to heaven, yet they took you to hell.
So I'd offer your demons -- a deal signed in blood
and sell them, my soul, if I still even had one.
I've screamed to the heavens and at God himself.
The only I answer I get? "Just wait for the flood."
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