A/N: Consider this a brief  poem to a memory. It does not concern any of my friends now, or myself.

But I was thinking tonight of a girl who used to be a very close friend of mine, almost a sister to me for a while,

 until something happened we could not fix. Anyway, I thought of something she told me when we were in grade school.

 The next thing I knew, this little poem came out.

You tell me that you are depressed

I don’t believe it’s true.

You tell that you want to die

I can’t believe it of you

You tell me you are suicidal

I don’t know how this could be

Because if you ever kill yourself

You will be killing me.