So now you're back.
Forget the cheering and the proud family,
You know you didn't really heal.
Does anyone after going through that?
You can smile, and blush, and whisper your appreciation,
But there is still a hollow space in your eye,
And you look more dead than when you went in the first place.
Take a quick glance in the mirror, and it will all come rushing back.
Shunned alleyways, flustered dealers,
That overwhelmed, crazy want to use. You could never heal.
Say all you want; flash all the cards,
It's never going to change anything.
Have they beaten you to silence?
Have they shoved you into a routine?
Will you ever be you again?
Or were you ever good enough?
It's called rehabilitation for a reason, yet after 6 months you'll be
Back on the streets again.
Fame will be short lived.
There is still that hollow space in your eye,
That will never regain its spark.
You've never been dead to me before,
Now will those 6 months do any good?
Have they beaten the personality out of you, too?
People grow up in poor neighborhoods, and go to bad schools then grow up in drugs and hate. They find families and cannot support them. They bottom-out everywhere, around everyone. If you were put in that situation, would you end up in the exact same spot?
Where you are now? In the same spot?
