I lost my mother to a psychiatrist.

I think me and my dad fell out of love with her at the same time, though.

And she never had time for me; and she never had time for him.

If she wasn't writing poetry or sketching dreams of angels and demons

She was with David. Her psychiatrist who made her a bit odd. 

And time made her a bit old.

All the love she used to have was being channeled to her higher power, to God.

Channeled by this short geeky man.

A balding, religious hypocrite. 

I hated knowing that they were praying for me.

Because I didn't want their prayers, I wanted my mom.

But I lost my mother to a psychiatrist.