Good friend,
You held my hand when I grew weary,
You held my hand when I grew teary,
As I scraped my knee,
And it began to bleed,
You grew nauseous,
I grew cautious,
And only just moved out of the way,
Of the lunch you had today.

Ew,
That was gross,
You,
Proudly boast,
It was like two feet!
I condescendingly reply,
Yeah...real neat.
(I kind of lie)

But you knew,
Right away,
You saw through,
Without say,
And before I knew what happened,
Pillow in my face, close captioned;
KA-POW!!!
For the hearing impaired,
As I politely tossed you down the stairs,
But you wouldn't dare go,
Without a handful of my hair,
A smile on your face,
You stay in my good grace,
As we stand together in explanation,
To your mother about the breaks and lacerations,
Truly,
We shocked her,
But not quite as much,
As the nurse,
Or the doctor.

I loved our quarter-dimensional world,
I pray you find this poem in good grace,
And continue to let your crazy mind unfurl.