Friends for Life


Happy in your own world of yourself
You don’t look out, you don’t compare.
Metal-music and postered deep-orange walls.
Your worries are happiness and health
Not sex, grades, or other commodities rare.
Your room is a smiling sun-set mess;
And why is it you’re never seen in a dress?

You play Rugby. Of course. Never
Afraid to show yourself dressing like a ‘guy’.
Do you ever smile? Always for my dearest.
I’m used to shunning, but clever
Me ignores, I don’t ever let them make me sigh.
And I live each moment, taking every breath by the
Balls, rocking out to not giving a fuck.

But it must be hard for you, seeing others glare
Down at you. They say; damaged maybe?
Bullied? No one is that strange, they swear.
Skin-shallow indifference; cut-off-sleeves baggy t’s
Crept into your style punk.
What is that soft sound of crying?
Who knew each moment could be so lonely.

You think yourself so artful. You think water slips
Off your little duck’s back; remember
That cat you pet who left the other day? It
Came back with a dead rat; left it somewhere in your
Fire-red, rebel messy room; rotting.

Thoughts trail away down trails that
Lead to more, trailing each in turn.
You don’t understand why your mind works like this.
Nor why no one else sees
Through your twilight scowl
Shielded by Slipknot, BFMV, Paramore.

As your Autumn dies to Winter frost,
I bet you have weeping razor-scored crosses
Crisscrossing scars; fallen tears leaving noughts.
Friends for life.

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