Depression took my friend
a few years back.
It seems like it's been forever
but it's been five years to be exact.
At times, he was happy and funny
and full of life.
And others, he was brash and bitter
and found himself in strife.
His incredible highs were always followed
by devastating lows.
At his lowest was when
his pain really began to show.
At his best, he would laugh
so loud it spread all throughout the room.
There were flowers in his garden
that had just finished their bloom.
At his worst, he would sulk and shout
with so much pain, he would almost cry.
Everything in his garden
would rot and crumble and die.
I always saw his pain
but never knew how to help.
When I did nothing, I might as well have
killed him myself.
He loved more
than he wanted anyone to believe.
But when nobody was looking,
he wore his heart on his sleeve.
He did not love everyone.
In fact, there were some he despised.
The ones who stabbed him in the back
while looking him in the eyes.
There was one girl
he really came to adore.
Everyone worshiped the ground she walked on
and cursed the day he was born.
That grave imbalance goes to show
his world was unfair.
She took and took and took
until he was left gasping for air.
He did not possess the qualities
favored by the superficial and vain.
He was not handsome nor rich but had
a wild heart and an exceptional brain.
He lived his whole life feeling
unloved and slighted.
His anger became furious and his
For what it’s worth,
I always loved him dearly.
He will never know that his death
hurt me severely.
I could have done more.
I could have saved him from himself.
I could have grabbed his hands
and dragged him out of hell.
I should not have to miss him.
I should not have to say goodbye.
He should still be here with me.
He should not have had to die.