Whispers

There is a friend of mine. A long ago lover,
And I freeze at the sight of his sunken eyes and skin stretched taught,
His bones protruding, while muscle sinews lie like tendons,
A face that stares in abject horror of the monster he knows I see,
the dreadful, painful, heartbroken young man that once looked with such joy from within,
and is now so far away, but yet, he's there, not disappeared, behind those hollow, dreaming eyes.

I look into his face and see his broken spirit,
condemning sympathy, knowing it will come his way again,
his shock at how such a thing has happened,
and still happens despite the drugs he's meant to receive.
Drugs that never came his way because his lowly status allows inhumane excuses,
of why he must wait, when waiting even a month more has only one result.

There is no joy, or smile, or sun to be felt like I once saw in his face,
Now he waits for a gentle breeze to take him away,
because anything, nothing, something else has to be better than this.
In a small room, scared to go out for fear of being seen and recognised, 
by those he once called friends. There is shame, in his soul, to be chosen to carry,
touched on the shoulder by this vile force. 
In whispered voices his friends speak his name.

The gentle breeze he hopes for carries those voices that he prays do not exist, 
but surely must and do at every corner where a familiar face waits to see him pass.
He is alone, as he has been since he was very young and set adrift,
to be condemned for his wretched struggle and forced to survive by any means.
Again he is blamed for this new burden he endures, not his alone,
but for this brief moment, and to him, in that room, he's sure there is and has been no-one else.

What do you say to a friend so close to an end and still clutching in hope,
that another final chapter will appear and bring back what he once took for granted?
He dreams now of a day he once dismissed and failed to take the time to notice,
that he wishes to travel one more time, a cherished dream to feel both sunlight and rain,
to feel a day without the terrifying, crushing weight of what he and I both know,
and everyone who sees him knows, is now not far away.

Hope keeps him going. 
Hope that tomorrow, will somehow, in some way, be better than today.