I had a friend once,
I used to use him a lot
with my black pen,
back when I was ten.
But nobody took notice.
He used to hate it,
me writing him down-
He wanna get his message out
but when no one answered
he would always pout.
Eventually he got sick,
he don't wanna be friends no more.
So I just left him alone
in that dark hospital bed,
cold and weary
until he was dead.
He had a funeral
so miserable and quiet.
People got nothing to say
all they do is pray
that theirs won't die either.
Or maybe they're uncaring,
lil' robots who don't know
what was it they were
supposed to be sharing.
(Maybe it was the food-
people are cheap,
or was it that good?)
Or maybe-just maybe-
all along it was sadness
a sniff and some dampness,
while he's lying like frigid lead
in that soft comfy bed.
But at the end of the day
let the Father say,
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.
His friend, the voice
is no longer with us.
Carry him now into peace,
forever and ever at least.
Amen.
