I sat in this room all alone.
There are only four walls,
No pictures hanging, no plants growing.
It is not a cell, but I am in a jail.
I am a prisoner of my own free will.
Sometimes I wonder what it might be like.
To take a walk in the day or in the night.
Then I sit a while longer and forget that thought.
My mind keeps wondering on and on, on the good times and the bad
Even the times that have never came at all.
Sometimes when I get lonely my friend will come,
he always knows when the time is right.
He is my best friend.
He is the only friend I have.
He knows how I feel and he knows what to say.
We talk for hours at a time and when I am better,
then and only then will he go away.
Some may say he looks a lot like me.
The same eyes, the same color hair and strange little smile.
He helps me in the bad times because the only good
times are when he is here.
Tonight is going to be a bad one,
the worst of all and maybe the last.
For my friend will not come back because my walls are bare.
For I have bad luck for at least seven years to come.
I have broken the door in which my best friend comes.
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