My Friend

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

love unrequited.

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.