I wish you could trust me and not lust over me. Let me hold your hand but you choose my body instead.

 

I’ve seen you crushed but you would rather release your pain and stress through the smoke of a blunt. King, you carry so many burdens yet you say you don’t need a helping hand. You would rather hold everything in and let it build because the ones you’ve loved betrayed you.

 

You fear being called weak. Why the hell do you care about their judgement?

 

You only speak truth when you’re drunk because you fear admitting that you’re troubled and damaged on a sober mind.

 

Wish I could call you arrogant but society has taught you self-imprisonment