My parents think I’m still fucked up cuz you’re dead

My parents ask why I don’t talk to my friends about you

We are all still fucked up cuz you’re dead

We don’t talk about it

We drink about it

Cry about it

Say things in passing and avoid the feelings

My parents think I wish I was dead

But I know what death does

And I spend too much time trying not to hurt people

To ever wish that feeling upon someone else

And I guess that’s why I’m still here