Book of poems

My best friend

My best friend isn't a boy.

My best friend isn't a girl.

I don't treat the friendship like a toy,

Because my best friend helps me hurl.

It's a small creature in my head.

The one telling me I shouldn't be dead.

It and I made a deal,

It said promise me to skip all meals.

I asked the voice why,

It said it's the reason I cry.

It'll make me feel good

If I don't eat any food.

I said okay,

Not knowing what to say.

It left me alone for a few weeks.

However, I felt a little creeped.

Then a month I weighed 90 pounds less.

And I lost all my chest.

All I had were bones and skin.

I sat quietly and sinned.

My best friend then came.

It asked why I was mad.

I said I'm not mad, but sad.

Maybe my friend is bad.

It said, "Nonsense! I know the cure!"

I asked, "What is it dear?"

It replied, "Smoke some weed.

It calms your nerves, you see."

"Do some drugs and drink a lot.

Don't worry. You won't get caught."

I did what it said.

Then it left my head.

I soon felt bugs

All over my arm.

Not like nice hugs,

But the crawls caused harm.

I screamed and shout.

Screamed my lungs out.

Veins throbbed all over.

Maybe it happened because I wasn't sober.

My best friend came in my mind.

It said, you aren't hard to find.

You scream. You cry.

Might as well die.

"Make these bugs disappear!"

"Stop shouting. No need to fear.

Cut your skin, till they're dead.

Just listen because I'm in your head."

"Okay," I say.

Not much to do that day.

I expected the voice to be gone.

But it wasn't gone until after dawn.

It convinced me to die.

To tell the world goodbye.

It said the pain will stop.

The fight will end.

That's the last I heard from my friend.

The world faded out.

No more shouts.

No more cries.

That was the year that I died.