The stinging feeling of hurt creeping up on you, moving from your head to your toes. Causing loud confusion, drilling illusions and opening holes.

Filling up your psyche with asinine thoughts. The darkest parts of you, waking up from evil spots.

All the memories shared, all the laughter aired, all the emotions bared, during all the times we cared, and now they’ve been impaired.

I miss what we use to have. I miss the tears of joy, enough for a bath. I miss our comradery and our friendship. Everyone even thought we were kinship.

That’s how close we were before the Lion King attacked. Best friends caught in turmoil, the odds were stacked.

Now we’re both growing up alone, times apart. Wishing we could take back our unkind words, from the start.

It use to feel like hell. Though now, I wish you well. Our friendship grew apart. That’s a part of art. Different strokes for different folks. Love never really dies; it’s just looking for a place to hide. I wish you joy and peace, with all the happiness to now release.