The Friend

He arrived and sat slumped at his desk
And wondered how he’d made this mess.
How old friendship once unsurpassed
Now seems transformed to obsequiousness.

Shadows and ghosts from times before
Appear at his shoulder whispering lore
Of how these incidents repeat until
His life is one long endless chore.

Is he really so incomprehensible
And his presence entirely terrible
That no one can come close to him
Without attempt to make him fall?

If he cannot see into his soul
How can he know where lies his goal?
And to whom can he run this time?
Whose arms remain to him enfold?

He tries to make the situation right
But with his blinkered failing sight
The simple lines meant to appease
End up threatening a fight.

The friend, perplexed suggests discussion
Later, when matters are less confusing.
But instead of accepting amiably
His reply smacks of self-obsession.

Wanting only to take flight
He throws the friend sadistic bite.
With defensiveness his only weapon
It’s not a battle he’s equipped to fight.