For me?
Cigarrette butts, ashtrays and pipes. Mary Jane says, "hello." But she is not enough. Ecstacy tabs and pain pills, to lift you up no matter who it kills. Driving in the fast lane, no seatbelt as high as a plane, feeling the wind through your hair. I don't want you to do it, but it is who you are. It worries me - will you be the next wrecked car? Would you stop for me? Would you buckle up? Or would you say that I cage you and that you just want to be free? I just don't want to see you, laying cold in the street, and to hear you could have been saved if only you had listened to me. So if I told you I loved you, because I do, would you look me in the eyes and tell me, "For you, these things - I'll do."
Contributed by bunnyluvin
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