Edicius was my best friend.
Since the dawn of my time,
He was there when no one else was.
He gave me hope,
He gave me life.
Now that he's gone, I am too,
For he was the death of me.
It was him who drove me to pick up the blade.
It was him who told me to make the cuts.
It was him who bled the life out of me.
Twas my best friend's death that caused mine.
Edicius, my suicidE.
A/N: Not my best poem. Can anyone guess who Edicius is? (HINT: the "E" at the end of "suicidE")