I have a distinct memory.
I think I was about the age of three
Sitting in the drugstore parking lot.
Wondering why were we in this eldritch spot?

Bubblegum man had two types of candy
One for you and one for me.


The rest gets kind of hazy.
Freud would call it repression maybe.
But I think you held a syringe to your arm;
I never grasped this act of self harm.

Or maybe it was self healing
What made you feel such burdenous feeling?

Drugs and mental health are not where I’m irreverent,
But how come with a parent it feels so different.
Perhaps what a 3 year old had to levy
Is to this day, just too **** heavy.