Parking Lot

You drove me to the cemetery
To watch the punk kids smoke cigarettes and trample over graves
They have no right to be visiting
Taking pictures and laughing
You said it’s what you did in middle school
It’s where you’d go when your parents started fighting, finding solace among
the overgrown weeds
Comfort in simplicities
You drove me all throughout the city
To watch the school kids chat about their days and hold their parents' hands
Sitting there, you calmly explained
How yours were never there to do that
Then the demons started fighting
And the anxieties started biting in your mind
Memories flash back
You bash your head against the wheel and scream
«The parking lot’s too god damn small today. I can’t back out, I can’t think
straight. It’s getting harder every day.»