Milk Street

You are good
You are kind
You are drunk all the time
But never drunk enough
As you’re battered by the underside of what we swore we wanted
Bothered by the crapshoot that has put you half to sleep
A sorely needed sleep
I’ll hang outside the door all night
I’ll bang on the door all night
You are good
You are brave
No matter what you say
But never brave enough
As you’re trying to shield
Your glass newborn from the dodgeballs
And aching for children
That you have never seen
But it’s still a tragedy
It’s still a tragedy
It’s still a tragedy