My friend used to have a smile that shined bright, Like a lighthouse guiding sailors and ships.
Never with doubts or pain, Nothing 'seemed' out of place like a tailor made fit.
Now his face? Rarely a grin, And whiskers with a fairly gray tinge.
Back spasms had him 'popping' like bursted bubbles. Person's mumble.
Make him feel schitzo, Wants to grip the pistol and leave his 'mind in pieces' worse than puzzles.
Told me once, He feels caught in a worthless struggle.
"I spend more time looking at my feet than skies, And both more than people's eyes."
And the reasons why? They seemed disguised by his pleading cries to again be alive.
To be free and spry like butterflies, Dancing in his stomach.
But to him, Their stares seeming repugnant like his stance was that of a hunch back.
He wants to touch that tender emotion. But he's a 'wreck' like a fender that's broken.
And his face seems twisted and frozen. 'In too deep' like a fish in the ocean.
Now he's sad, And 'with problems' like he's living in a math book.
More than a tad shook. A flash, And it's gone then he's left 'raw' like a meal from a bad cook.
"There was a time, When I could see without a blurred vision to right and wrong.
Now I frighten some with my lifeless, Dumb stares into my night time walls.
Remembering love, And other cherished things. Now it's my very dreams,
That seem to crumble down from atop my head to bury me.
And yes, I mean very deep because in my very sleep I can barely breathe."
Now he can barely think, And when he's around anyone he drags the mood to darkness.
Like the dark depths of the darkest forest of thought deprivation.
He feels abandoned, Left in waiting all his brethren 'fading.'
Like darks in the laundry. And now his lack of ethics? Amazing.
Never phased me when he smiled, but he's such a prick now he's not my friend when he doesn't.
A quick keystyle.
Never with doubts or pain, Nothing 'seemed' out of place like a tailor made fit.
Now his face? Rarely a grin, And whiskers with a fairly gray tinge.
Back spasms had him 'popping' like bursted bubbles. Person's mumble.
Make him feel schitzo, Wants to grip the pistol and leave his 'mind in pieces' worse than puzzles.
Told me once, He feels caught in a worthless struggle.
"I spend more time looking at my feet than skies, And both more than people's eyes."
And the reasons why? They seemed disguised by his pleading cries to again be alive.
To be free and spry like butterflies, Dancing in his stomach.
But to him, Their stares seeming repugnant like his stance was that of a hunch back.
He wants to touch that tender emotion. But he's a 'wreck' like a fender that's broken.
And his face seems twisted and frozen. 'In too deep' like a fish in the ocean.
Now he's sad, And 'with problems' like he's living in a math book.
More than a tad shook. A flash, And it's gone then he's left 'raw' like a meal from a bad cook.
"There was a time, When I could see without a blurred vision to right and wrong.
Now I frighten some with my lifeless, Dumb stares into my night time walls.
Remembering love, And other cherished things. Now it's my very dreams,
That seem to crumble down from atop my head to bury me.
And yes, I mean very deep because in my very sleep I can barely breathe."
Now he can barely think, And when he's around anyone he drags the mood to darkness.
Like the dark depths of the darkest forest of thought deprivation.
He feels abandoned, Left in waiting all his brethren 'fading.'
Like darks in the laundry. And now his lack of ethics? Amazing.
Never phased me when he smiled, but he's such a prick now he's not my friend when he doesn't.
A quick keystyle.