My friend.

I have a friend, who I never see,
He visits many people daily, but never me,
Maybe he deems me unworthy.
Be it night or day he will see everybody,
but he never comes to visit me.

I remain sleepless, awaiting his arrival every night,
Waiting in the darkness,
Anticipating his cold presence.
No avail has yet come of my patience,
Too restless I grow in hoping to see the light,
Take me my friend, into the calmness,
Only you can save me from this torment,
Do you not see how desperately I need you?
I yearn to be in your company,
Every second of everyday, you are on my mind.

Why do you not visit me, my friend?
I welcome you with open arms
When will you show me the end?

This muthaf*ckin' poem right here.
Speaks to me.
It isn't mine, but I f*cking love it.
Almost as much as Solitude.
I only like Solitude more because it's less obvious.
Well sorta.
To me anyway.
Poetry is different for everyone though.
I've been listening to a lot of sh*t lately.
Everyone seems to have their own opinion of what I should do.
Everyone minus me.
I guess I'll be alone with my hallucinations.
It's all fine as long as I don't run out of money for poison.