Dear Jesse, don’t get high and stay in the sky.
I thought about it more, and I realized it means don’t die.
Don’t die getting so high, wasting your time flying in the sky.
You’ll never come back down.
You’ll be missed throughout the town.
Don’t drown in sorrow, always look forward to tomorrow.
Even if it’s death, it’ll leave your family less of a mess.
Die with dignity, not in another vicinity, not down on your knees, because then everyone can see.
Be high in our eyes, and fly through our lives.
In God we trust, in God I trusted, you trusted.
We must’ve forgot our bodies and souls need time to grow, but with all those chemicals, you’ll leave a polemical.
Leave a legacy, remembered through your supremacy, not croaked over beside a bottle of Hennessy, pen in hand, and left all messy.
It’ll be a bad story to tell the mourning.
Palms against their face, with tears pouring.
“It’s such a disgrace! Drugs are bad kids, and it’ll always be a fad. In the end, everyone’s sad.”
Why put yourself in this situation, when it’s pretty obvious, you don’t have self abrasion. Stern words, stone cold, strong hold, and heartbroke, I know there’s hope.
I can see it in your smile, but your eyes tell me it’s lying in that mile long stare.
I can see the dullness in your hair.
What makes me scared is the fact you know you’ll never be bestowed with that voice you have when we’re on the phone.
The mumble jumble you and your dad do, it’s almost cute.
You sound so happy, even when Angie’s snappy.
I can tell when you’re down, you frown so loud, I don’t need to see it, I feel it.
It’s just I’ve been thinking about you a lot.
You’ve been blocking everything else out.
I know something's wrong.
Time’s to tell.
I hope you’re doing well.
Love your daughter, Ava.
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