On Abandoning Friends - Stephen Ross

Photo created by h.koppdelaney

Who are friends really? 

That at first treats us so keenly, 

Even dearly for maybe a year or two. 

Initially when things become confusing, 

They find me quite amusing.

At second, they ask for assistance 

So I drive at speed across distance. 

But often they keep truth from their partners, 

Whose eventual suspicions are garnered.

Rightly I might add, not because I have done wrong! 

Regardless I get the blame, always the same? Yes, usually.

At third looking for shelter from said partner,

Ask me to meet their own heart’ner.

A sister, a brother the friend of another? 

Who I dutifully spend time with, both for them and for myself.

At fourth with solutions presenting, 

I allow their husbands some venting.

And friends’ wives come a running 

With child inside now expelled, who's exiled?

Not the child, well, at least not for a while.

At fifth with explanations extended, 

My very life becomes united or blighted. 

Depending upon the mending requested, 

Yet once assisted and tested, I’m jested? 

He's just full of it darling! They say.

At sixth attacked by some husband, No fear! 

I have reflected his disgusted, disgruntled trauma. 

 This! is the true healing. Now cast me down until I’m kneeling 

Underneath Gods own ceiling. For I have found the meaning, 

To life, the universe, and everything.

At seventh banished and mistreated, 

Abandoned and requests all unheeded.
At eighth in happy delusion, I’m now the subject 

Of their this time, dis-respectful confusion.

At ninth I ask for assistance myself, 

But find my apparent friends refuse.

Have I been used? 

Why am I the subject of their refused re-used personal abuse?

At tenth my sacrifice made, 

I wonder when I might get paid or laid.

No? Too slow or too fast, die cast, they now hate me?!

So give me money instead, for my wise council, 

Cheats and thieves of Steve!

At eleventh, it looks like you really find out who your friends are when you need help, 

And no-one comes to you.

At twelfth, siting alone I glance at the phone 

The tears in my eyes are from happiness. 

In gentle amusement I know I have acted with honour. 

My true friends will emerge having understood this verse. 

And their husbands and wives will not like it.

Why is it I wonder are the people who plunder 

My tender and slender resources, 

So unable to be as gracious to me? 

As I have acted most bravely.

I love everyone and they can only love one?

Trapped or wrapped or raped or escaped, 

I wonder in thunder when the lightening, so frightening, 

Can release them to peace and the fierce become deceased. 

And I, who has done nothing but act in the best interests of love, integrity, respect, and honour, am discarded.

And so thirteen is now seen. Unlucky for some, 

at least I still have my mum, my father and sister. 

They will always love me even when all my friends, literally, 

Every single last one of them have abandoned me. 

Who said the world was fair? It hurts when you care, 

And find out that actions speak louder than words.  

Be kinder to each other, written with the intent for love and goodwill to all.