11 April 2012
He comes here in the morning And stays throughout the night, He Listens to my sorrow, My battles and my plight.
He asks for nothing of me, Just absorbs my sour mind, His presence is my missing piece, Of a puzzle I'm yet to find.
He judges not, He judges never, I must drive him round the bend, His troubles must be so much greater, As he is an imaginary friend...
Who? • Opuss № I