On the brink of depression.
The memory of life floods the senses.
Knowing someone wishes for your presence,
Without a fake thought in play.
Faithful souls inhabit the friends I meet,
Ones that don't use me,
Ones that don't yell at me,
Ones that don't hit me.
I love my faithful friends,
For they are my life.
The memories of such love are tainted within my mind.
Never more, such memories won't break the thought of my life.
Depression recurring,
People gather their attention for the wounded.
The blood soaked knife isn't in sight,
No Foul Play.
"Thank You"
-R
Wolfe the Infamous One Community Member 
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