MY FRIEND

As I continue my journey through this thing called life, I notice that I constantly make a bad decision

And I tend to not think occasionally, does that mean I’m not fulfilling my parent’s vision?

Sometimes I feel like I am the bull’s eye because I can feel the world’s precision

And it’s cutting away at me; did you see the small incision?

The cut, the opening, the wound, the mark

The stab that is starting to break my life apart

The stab that can break me before I can even start

The stab that is more than physical, the one that is on my heart

And as I sit back and reminisce about the things I now miss

I noticed I changed as soon as my friend didn’t exist

Does that make me psychotic, demented, unbalanced, or erratic?

No it means I cared, I use to think I was being dramatic

And now I am in denial, maybe I do suffer from depression

Maybe it comes from my aggression towards people or it could be my oppression

I guess I am finally coming out and telling my confession

But it’s left up to me to seek guidance and advice

On how to control my life

And appreciate how much people love me and how much they had to sacrifice

But as life goes on my wounds tend to mend

Because I realized even though he isn’t here, he is still my FRIEND!