When I was little...

When I was little
I had a best friend.
She played the fiddle.
She was kind until the end
Of this little merry friend.

Her name was Lori,
She liked to tie her hair
into a long, golden blond braid.
Lori was pale, and she wore a skirt.
Lori would always smile, always be nice.
But she always had cuts
up and down her little white arms.
She cut herself, she told me.
Why did she cut herself?
I didn't get it then.

Lori's cuts got worse and worse.
Mama told me she probably had problems, not to play with Lori anymore.
Daddy said that she was probably sad, and not to go near her.
Brother couldn't speak yet then.
Lori and I still played together, making daisy crowns.
I would make little spells to make Lori better.
Lori would cry when I got worried for her wounds.
Why did she cry?
I didn't get it then.

And one day,
Lori walked in front of a green van.
She smiled sadly, and said
"I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for being here, bothering you.
You were a great friend,
right until the bitter end."

Lori was run over by the van.
Her red blood everywhere
Her golden hair spattered with blood.
Her eyes here, her brains there, her heart at my mine.

I screamed when Lori went everywhere.
When my mother and father rushed out,
asking what happened,
I screamed "Lori! It's Lori! I saw her die!"
They couldn't see her with their eye.

Only I saw Lori everywhere.
Nobody else saw her die.
Nobody else saw her cry.
Lori, my best friend.
She was only in my head.

Lori, Lori, Sorry Lory,
Why did you have to go?
Why did you leave me,
alone in the world,
a few more friends to go?