Our friendship lasted between you and me
a good, long time.
But of course we got on each others nerves.
And our emotions popped like balloons.
I said mine,
you said yours.
Since you were hurtful
my balloon was popped by your needle.
Yet,
I filled your locker with candy
because I wanted to make it up to you.
We used to share all the colorful, sugary treats.
We had a good, sweet time.
And you didn't like it
when I got sugar high.
Then like a child you would yell at me.
And be appalled like a grandparent.
Remember that I let you have the last air-head.
And your head really did explode.
This distance is great.
Watching you come back into my life
like a stomp rocket.
Stomping the presser
to watch the rocket go in the air
and come back down in peace.
But you come back to make me feel dissatisfaction.
As a friend, your job is to
cheer me up, and be honest but nice.
Now that I think of it,
balloons, candy, and stomp rockets are old and
out-dated.
Guess our friendship is too.
Bon voyage,
and sianara.
Hope to never see you again.
So like a stomp rocket,
don't bother coming back.