What does it mean when someone calls me a my old friend?
Should I sit still and pretend I don't notice?
Or should I give chase to this fruitless stag,
And retort with vile things such as 'scumbag'?
If, my thoughts and words, I cannot focus,
I will never bloom into a pure lotus
These incessant insults directed at me
Fill me with a sense of grief
For I know not of what they see
I am not what I seem to be
Of my pride, they are the thief
My happiness here has been brief
To defend myself, that is my need
Without having to become what I hate
So that I may never have to bleed
I look to the sky and I plead
I need the strength to do something great
And I need it now for I cannot wait
I forge for myself a new set of plate
So that I can never be hurt
Their pernicious words are now of late
Their power over me now stalemate
My enemy, now, cast into the dirt
Without myself having to assert
No more can these small words effect me
For I have found the key to protect me
That is to ignore the words of before
And so my pain will be nevermore
Moral of the poem: Don't get upset over "my old friend" or "friend".
