Let's talk about it.
My true first best friend's name:  Vicodin.
What an evil drug.
What an evil friend.


I met him in an orange bottle.
He sat there.
I said Hi.
He said Hi.
I took one and after that, we were hand in hand.


And then one day, he was gone.
And I missed him.
My little evil friend.
I missed that fool.


I faked things.
Injuries.
I caused things.
Injuries.
And I got my good friend Vicodin back.


And it was good.
I loved him.
He loved me.
We were good.


And then I ended up in a place with crazy people.
Stupid people who used drugs.
Stupid people who abused alcohol.
Stupid people like me.


One day, I was clean.
The next, I met up with Vicodin again.
And he made me feel good.
I loved him.
He didn't love me.


My evil friend.
How I hated him.
How I loved him.
How I didn't want him.


I killed him one day.
I just flushed him down the toilet.
Natural homicide.
Nothing serious.
First degree murder, just the way it should be.