Friends??

The one who works hard to keep his promises,
The one who keeps them happy,
The one who has already given up so much for friends,
But the one overlooked in the end.

Like a gas station in the middle of nowhere,
Needed and helpful for a period of time,
But the people you have helped,
Leave and never look back.

The recognition of effort,
Never pans out into anything more,
Than a picture in a book,
Or a drunken memory lost among others.

No one cares for the utility person,
Who makes them laugh,
Buys a round of drinks,
And gets left at the end of the night.

You look at his open door,
Smile and walk away,
Knowing what is inside to be great,
But still you walk on by.

And when it’s all said and done,
The people who are there now,
Become better people because of him,
And find new people to leave him in a pile of dust.

And have you looked at a pile of dust,
In all of it’s loneliness,
The disregarded pieces of skin and hair,
To be swept up and thrown away?

But still he plugs along for others,
New people he gives to,
To help for a little bit more,
Optimistic to the bitter, very bitter end.

But he grows institutionalized,
Only knowing the lonliness of the night,
The cold stare of an empty bed, empty apartment,
Waiting through another night, to start another day.

His skies grow cold,
The snow falls on his nose,
The tears freeze quickly,
And the friends he made melt away when the sun comes out.

Maybe the weatherman will see some sun,
And the blue skies will reign,
And the friends that he made won’t matter,
Because there might be new people in his life.