It seems as though I have no friends,
Those I've had are gone.
They said they'd be here 'til the end,
But that's better said than done.
I'm sick of always having to be
The one that makes the calls.
Maybe it's time they finally see-
I don't really care at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I appreciate those who do make all the calls. We need everybody as they are and there are many kinds of friends - maybe, not always the kind we are looking for, but... someday, as we weave together who we are....