By KATHARINA STOREY
I once had a friend called Robby,
Who I loved so dear,
He lived the last of his life only in fear.
All he wanted was to see his daughter,
To give her all the things he’d bought her.
I literally became a maid for him,
While he sat there committing sins.
The ice pipe had taken its toll,
And took away his mind and soul.
He lived the last of his life in a chair,
Filled with sorrow, anger and despair.
Involving himself in petty crime,
It wasn’t long until he was looking at time.
His first visit to the hospital was extreme,
Realizing he would never live the dream.
I cried to him for many nights,
I could see he was losing the fight.
He never picked up his guitar,
Just stared at something afar,
The support we gave him was no use,
He was broken inside from all the abuse.
I’d leave for a few hours and then return,
To find him sitting there still having a burn.
His health deteriorated more and more,
He became scared to answer the door.
I begged for his family to come and attend,
To visit the damaged person and help him to mend.
We sat there together him and I,
He was no longer enjoying the high.
The beautiful smile he had was gone,
He’d become totally withdrawn.
Ice took him from us to a place far away,
But still I think of him every day.
He haunts my dreams and I see the light,
I am so thankful to have won that same ice fight.
