Friends
Making friends,
Losing them.
The pain when it ends,
Bruises come.
Making more friends,
Friends start to change,
Being singled out,
Put in a shooting range.
Shot in the chest,
Dying cause I'm hated,
I was never the best,
My life has faded.
For me its tough
To Make a friend,
And I've had enough.
Cause I lose in the end.
Copyright © Carmen Erickson | Year Posted 2012
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