The Call.

You were my best friend, my sidekick,

You were my shoulder to cry on, my ear to listen,

I thought you were the light in some of my darkest times,

I appreciated you, felt affection for you.

Then I got the call.

I heard the truth, from many mouths,

Mouths I knew, mouths that demanded attention,

I heard the truth from my own mouth too,

The realisation of what you’d done.

Then I got the call.

I saw the darkness you hid,

I realised your true agenda,

My eyes opened to how you’d moulded me into what you needed me to be,

Just like the others.

Then I got the call.

I went to the station, she smiled making light of what was happening,

She listened to me talk for almost two hours,

She heard me, understood my confusion,

She documented everything.

Then I got the call.

I wrote 3 pages about you, I wrote with tears in my eyes,

My heart in my throat, my hands so shaky I felt like it wouldn’t end,

I told them about my life, about you, about my circumstances,

I rationalised that it wasn’t my fault, but it was.

Now I’m waiting for the call.

2 thoughts on “The Call.

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