I feel sick, nauseous.
I think, I haven't felt like this in years.
When was the last time, When he ran away from home?
I feel like my stomach is trying to eat my heart,
My head is pounding out the words,
"It could be your fault, It could go wrong,
This probably will get worse."
And I shouldn't write about it because
Even though you don't understand,
I'll read it and remember.
If nothing comes from it,
It will be a bad dream,
If it develops,
It will symbolize the beginning of the end.
"You're still the best thing that ever happened to me."
I scratched his back and I held on to his hug,
As if, Holding on to him,
Would keep him safe forever.

"By the end of this, I'll be singing heroin, you know by the Velvet Underground."
He Laughed and said, "Actually, I don't even know the words to that song."
I said threw teary smeary eyes, "I do, I'll sing it for you."

I think I'm the only person he knows,
Who cares about him unselfishly.
(I have nothing to gain from it really. Nothing selfish to take from it. Love hurts, isn't that what they say?)
I hope it's enough to keep him sane.
It has once or twice before...

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