A scared and lonely child,
Seeking for affection,
Striving for perfection.

In a dark sallow world,
A mask was his face, hidden behind a veil.
Disguised from the world,
He hid from what caused him ail.

Yet a shimmer of hope,
A sparkle of light,
Dared defy the darkness,
That one memorable night.

They had not been friends long,
But one thing they could see.
He was for her,
And shed be for he.

Words word never exchanged,
Nothing by a coarse tongue.
They had learned it would nae help,
From when they were young.

A seemingly perfect pair,
With many things quite the same,
She was his shield,
Against cruelty and foes the same.



Rest on me, its okay. She said one troubled eve,
Pay no heed to those who do such foul deeds.
Saddened thoughts overwhelmed my head,
I cried out in pain, Why cant I just will myself dead!

Soothing was her voice, honeyed and serene.
It swayed me from the edge of the cliff,
The life I would throw away,
Because some silly little tiff.

For hours on end, liquid rolled down my cheeks,
My best friend in the world, let me help you fix that leak.
With a sniffle and a nod, I collapsed into her embrace.
She was a god-send, an angel, my true saving grace.

Winter gave way to spring, and summer into fall,
I did not care, when I was near my best friend of all.
Yet like every sad tale, this story met a tragic end,
The duo drifted apart, with only a letter to send.



It wasnt quite clear, the first time he read,
Nor the third, or fifth, or anytime it was said.
There is always is a bond, between two friends so dear,
You know what the other means, without needing to read or hear.

In the tearstained note, was a nonchalant goodbye.
But the raw emotion in the writing made tears in his eye.
Gone was the glow in his life, his reason for being,
He re-dawned the veil, numbing to the world; not seeing.

Slowly the years passed, his face sagged and life dwindled,
All hope was gone, no friendship was to be rekindled.
When his light puttered out, there was none at his funeral,
Save that tired old worker, who shook his head sighed.

Another one lost, and no one here.
God I am so tired, after this I need a beer.
So thats how is story ends, not butterflys and rainbows,
But buried six-feet under by one of those worn-out old Winos.


Penned by my hand on the 18th of Miraman, in the year 401 AF.