Thrills and Pills

A sickly being in my life
With jagged hair, much like a knife
Her eyes are always wide and red
Not enough coke could keep her dead
Rancid breath, a vodka scent
Grocery money, not well spent
A staggering walk, abusive threats
Yelling so loud, just like the jets
A tiny girl, weak and frail
She only prays her mom would ail
A deadly wish to kill her off
Rid her like a common cough
If she died no one would grieve
There'd be peace, if you believe