Three F[r]iends

First fast f[r]iend was PAIN
sharp, yet safe refuge from all
rage thump that pumped vein

One more for BLADE, bane
chill, still sharper, none forestall, -
call sustained, blood-stain.

One last for SLEEP - lain
false mirage call before fall,
forgetting, - vain drain.

Three f[r]iends, SLEEP, BLADE, PAIN
passed judgement that all appal, -
stark dark pall remains …

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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