Good Mourning

Good mourning, my dearest best friend,

For this is the day that your sad journey ends.

You’ve blackened your coughs enough with your smoke,

You’ve taken the drugs in with your simple, typical toke.

The coughing seems to spin your head atypically round,

The disturbing coughing, oh, its terrible sound.

What a sweet, little bloody mess you’ve made,

And you’re not shouting out for any aid.

All you do is: sit back and watch yourself rot;

You lay your head back mindlessly, not

Caring about the pain that you’re spitting into the sink,

While you take another smoke, another drink.

To cure your pain, what would I do?

For sure, I’d set you straight, you’ve got to clue

What kind of selfish harm you’re unceasingly putting yourself through.

Good mourning, my dearest best friend,

For I have a caring hand to lend,

Which you’d never take, I’m sure,

But I’d make it definite that you are secure.

Why must you insist on being so very persistent in spite

Of what’s so soon to come, what’s your fate,

I’m guessing all you want to do is become higher than a kite.

I don’t exactly know if you’re committing a slow suicide,

But those smiles, your smiles, are what you’re learning to hide.

Good mourning, my dearest best friend,

I hope you enjoyed the smoke that faded off into the wind,

Because, I’ll miss you dearly,

Even though I know you treated yourself so severely.

All the jokes, the laughter, it expired,

Just ‘cause of the ungenerous, lifeless fires.

So good mourning, my dearest best friend,

For death was something to commend.

Only if I was there to tell you that I could help,

But you’d never hear these high-pitched yelps;

My shriek of terror that burns inside,

Hasn’t yet died with this false smile I wear so wide.

Farewell, my dearest best friend,

Seems you don’t care that my smile is hard to mend…