I met you at six years old.
You saved me from evil people.
You were bloody and bruised.
But you didn't care.
Your kindness let me live another day.
I met you again at eleven years old.
You were quiet, you didn't quite fit in with the others.
The first thing I said to you was 'Thank you'.
You were surprised, hearing these words come from someone like me.
We became friends, and your birthday was around the corner.
My gifts to you were clothes, a bracelet and hair clips.
I still remember the happy look on your face.
It was like you hadn't smiled in the last five years.
I witnessed your insanity a few weeks later.
I was so scared.
But I couldn't be, because I knew the real you wouldn't do this.
Yet I couldn't help but get angry at you.
I couldn't stand the sight of you, begging for forgiveness, when I was the one who should be begging.
We went our separate ways when