Lil' drunk, br bloody arm.. br doesnt matter.. br br she came at me with a stick.. br no tears.. not like it used to be.. br I used to beg for forgiveness.. br I used to be down on my knees.. br I held up my arms.. for her to hit.. br it bleeds.. br br I wonder why.. in my mind i think- why not come at me with a knife.. br You can end both misery.. br br I used to appreciate all the things my ma did. br from the hugs, to the advice.. br I remember.. when I was 11.. the start of 6 grade.. br she'd cook me breakfast everyday.. br talking story wit me as she does.. br br I cant say I dont miss it.. br even blood related, will leave you behind.. br br only another reason to get drunk and high.