Two Halves

By Luis Porraz

To others my writing is guidance yet for me it is essential for survival. Even though I write/sing/cry out my emotions, it doesn't seem like enough. Is there such thing as a cure for this depressive madness? I miss my mom, I miss the dad I never had, I miss the siblings that were taken, I miss my friends, most of all I miss myself. It gets even worse when I'm told to choose a side between two friends because I can't, I choose both and I end up with them leaving. What kind of friend am I to agree with them, when will this end...