To the confused child...

The friend of the warrior
Will be forever struck
By the unforgettable memories
That are in the blood,
Flowing in the veins.
The friend of the gardener
Will see no point
In life or death
And in the forever race
That leads him nowhere.
The friend of the doctor
Can never be the same,
Because walking is different,
And living is different,
Although nothing is lost.
The friend of the player
Never plays to win.
He sits on the side
With the luck on the other
And the dice showing seven.
The friend of the poet
Fives through the night
Like it’s his to take.
Borrowing the words
And never returning them.
The friend of mine
Always tries to help
But never does know
Because he wouldn’t tell
And I wouldn’t want him to.
The friend is never a friend,
Until you see yourself
And you are ready to believe
That the friend is a friend
And that you are a friend of yourself.


Friendship has a value, he told me. Friendship doesn't exist, he told me.

Friendship, you, child.

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Yeliza Mats

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