Dear Mama,
I was 15 the last time I seen you
Numbers flipped, now I'm 51
A street drug called desire, maybe shame of. Some other drag pull cigar caused fire
Made you leave, too hot to handle
Family reluctantly stepped in, taking on your fumble
It's hard for me to believe they desired to help with your stumble
The treatment received seemingly faulting a child, truly in the lane of sad
I guess a conversation needs to be had
Yet don't worry, i mean after to all theses years i ain't mad
Just wondering
Dear Mama......What's Up how have you been, it's me your baby girl you are my first friend....and I miss ya
Dear Mama,
I ain't mad at cha, Dear Mama, I ain't mad at cha