Is your life an epicentre for death when two of your best friends, mother and brother, are dead before you can grow a beard.
What if you add the mothers of two more best friends, followed by your own grandmother?

It's the thoughts like these that lead to the bottle or the nearest crutch.
What if the crutch you seek was the cause of half those tragedies?
Should you look elsewhere even if it holds you up?

You were always happier than me, but maybe you had help.
Maybe this help numbed instead of soothed.
And maybe I shouldn't have been sleeping when you needed to talk.
But maybe now the crutch that let you fall is the only thing helping me walk.