I have friends
their status' range
from anything, and the in-between
they like my voice, my love
they've never cared what I chose to wear

I have less friends
they're all the same
They laugh at others, in jealousy, in pain
They like my words, my clothes, my hair
They make me want to appear so fair.

I have few friends we barely talk
They look at me, almost with disgust
They worry small amounts about my bony frame
but never say a word to end my pain.

I have one friend he's in my head
He keeps me pretty and underfed
He wears me down, but holds me close
He tells me he's what I needed most.

I want my friends, who've disappeared
They send me looks, tender cares
but the friend in my head,
he tells me o
that the friends of the past love me
No more.