stan.

Hey there, friend, how you doing?

I hear you got your own thing now, happy for you, friend, something bigger and more fulfilling.

Or at least I could wish I could say that, because now you’re gone

I knew that, and yet I’m writing this stupid rap or poem or whatever the hell those writer traps call it anymore

I try to write to my gone friends because it keeps my sanity from walking out and slamming the door

Trying to believe in a God is I’m believing in, something better than this world

Goddamn, anything sounds better than this trashed up world

It seems like all this news is killing me and I still wanna hear it

But screw it, back to you mate, how’s your life?

I know that you’re gone, I just wish you’d have stayed alive a little longer

This feels like a bigger burden than Biden and his allegations

At least a politican can pay off and forget the whole thing

I wouldn’t be able to forget you no matter how many times I’ve wrote a damned poem, a melody to forget those I’ve lost

So why do I even do it?

I can’t rewind.

I coulda stopped you

But my mind can’t stop reminding me that you died.

#DDPC