I have seen you clean.
Bright and beautiful you.
Calm and collected.
But I have a sinking feeling
that you are unreeling.
Maybe I'm just dreaming
but your secret is creaming.
You're standing at my door.
You can't even keep your eyes open.
You've never looked worse,
face filled with no remorse.
This sickness has you cursed.
Your body is not invincible.
The path you're going is not acceptable.
The life you are living is not livable.
I'm falling apart as you try to sell your disease to me.
Let the friend I know intervene, please.
I have seen you kill the abuse,
but I guess you failed to disconnect the roots.