Old Friend

My friend that I’m close too doesn’t see the fear eating him alive,

Maybe he won’t see it until he dies, or until his fear leaves him and he cries,

He’s doing things he said he didn’t like in others, now that’s what he’s become,

Most of us are eating the feast while he sits there eating the crumbs, he says

His life is in a slump, but he won’t try to get out of the dumps, now I’m here

Trying to debunk the little problems in a simple rhyme, but I don’t got the time to

Go back and rewind and recite his life, like the times he took a knife and carved his

Mistakes into wrist and yet he still persists depression not happiness, love has

Become his ill obsession, hopefully, that will teach him a lesson, and give his mind

A little correction, from his so-called “lack of love and attention”