Crying loud, stuck in your throat.
No one can hear.
Tread along, feet drag behind.
No one is near.
It’s too late to restart.
You’re faking your part.
Go down that avenue,
You’ll never find peace.
When you come home to good medicine,
You’ll finally sleep.

Light it up, let it out.
Whole mind is sore.
Inhale, holding on tight.
Flowing to your core.
It gets late, it gets dark.
You’re playing this part.
Lay down, obscured view,
You’re searching for peace.
Come down from good medicine
So you can get sleep.

Holding the prescription
She asked me
"Don't I have right to live more?"
With the adverse face
And the tired eyes
Through thick and thin
Weakening defenses
To feed the spirit

Hold on
Her skin have seen the past
Long live.....your hope for survival
Even though life was complex
She'll seek
What she deserves
Simple
It will be

People are not your medicine.
I had to learn that the hard way.
Both perspectives.
The prescription taker.
The prescription giver.
Draining, heart wrenching, and sickening.
I will no longer be the medicine past people have made me be.
No longer giving all my oxygen and strength to those who won't try themselves.
Sure, playing either role may be nice but at the end of the day, you're left sobbing quietly alone in your room just wishing the pain would subside.
One thing to remember is,
You cannot make people your medicine and you are not others

Although we're together again
I feel so far away
I miss having you here
I wish you would stay...

You're love is a medicine
It takes away all my pain
But I don't know if I can say
That you will love me for one more day