#142

And I told,
like some legend of a prophecy,
with a voice
I know is never mine,
but I claimed it anyway.

"I will save you,
in this life or in the next.
Just believe me."

Yet somehow,
somehow, somehow, somehow,
it is with you I felt great awe.

You called out to me,
telling me to end it all,
all the while still claiming me
as your friend.

I've done not the kindest of acts.
I've done ever so few acts of goodness
I could recall many,
but I am never a good person.

Yet still—
you called me a friend.

You call me a friend.

Whatever did I do
to deserve such a precious,
precious, precious friend
such as you?

With the last bit of sanity
you may still recall as your own,
you ran after me.

You ran after me.

I do not know if you meant to hurt me
or whatever,

but all I know is that before
you finally went,
your last words still
were you calling out to me,

"My friend."

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