Fictitious Friend

The night grows dark, not my eyes - With vision sharp, with a puzzled mind I look, into the bushes, without a blink Waiting for some light. I can feel the fog, cold on me It makes my palms and fingers numb; My hard breath falls harsh on them No peace for me, I see. My tent is warm, I snuggle to bed, Cold, cold! I cannot rest on them; I had to endure a lot, a lot... The despair deeply rooted in my mind. I close my eyes, counting sheep in vain, I cannot sleep, those memories wake me up And I throw my legs in despair Clutching my pillow and crying out. I realize, I am in a metaphor. You're my fictitious friend, whom I loved. I hate your creator, who killed you, And I would surely kill those cruel cannibals. I'm still on the hill, with a wish to see you, With a vain wish to get you back; I can't plunge into the final pages If I could, I would bring you back. DATE: 26/4/2016