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
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