My Friend

We’re close, my friend and I He’s always impeccably dressed Always a man to try Even when I’m not at my best He’s a constant companion Whispering in my ear Though his voice could be a battalion It pleases him so to smear My thoughts with his words He rages and taunts His anger is a herd Of malicious wants He promises relief from pain An easy rage In the most obdurate way His words are a rampage My friend, he’s fickle A man of many threats Whom at the slightest remark begins to prickle Oftentimes he seems to have no assets Oh, my counterpart Whom laughs at fire with evil glee In which resides the blackest heart Is unfortunately, poor man, a part of me