My home smells like sour and sweat,
post-partum regret
a quarter century flipped
for the malmanager's bet.

Prayers buried in letters,
asking for days that're better
but getting by on mediocre
life that doesn't hurt, but doesn't smile neither
mama cries when she don't understand my need for either

scrawling words when I'm feeling it
days and nights when we're spillin it
saliva and la...

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