My Friend

June 2, 2010
By Anonymous

I have a friend
Who draws pictures with twists
Because they’re drawn on her wrists
And legs
While she begs
For me to help
The yelping pain inside
For she cannot hide
So she just keeps drawing
With a red from her heart
But my friend’s smart
Despite her crude art
She can write and dance
Which breaks her trance
Of blood red daze
But soon she pays
The price of life
Again once more
Just like she did before
The trance of dance
No longer enhancing her
Because she’s lost once more
Just like she was before
And it’s because of that boy
Who used her like a toy
And toyed with her heart
And kept a part
Of it for himself
Never to relinquish
To take her off the shelf
No, he thrust her up there
Without care
And now she’s left
Victim of theft
And all that is left
Is to draw pictures with twists
On her legs, arms
And wrists
As the pain persists
And she isn’t even missed
Except by me
But even my plea
Is silence to my friend
It’s like she doesn’t want this to end
She doesn’t even pretend
She just keeps drawing
Day and night
With all her might
Despite my pleas
To just stop
“My friend, please…”

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