This is a dark genre prose which represents on how we have changed our attitudes from humans to robots - from people who understand emotions to people who process emotions. It speaks on expectations from a relation to the finality of accepting isolation and loneliness.
His deranged mind called me last night Love he had lost which he felt, was his right Spoke to me for hours, told me history, for me it was an overdose Finally it ended; I popped two pills of peace wanting to rest Next morning a call waked me up, I recollected the discussion I had last night He had killed himself I was told; he slit his wrist and went into heavenly abode Next to him, they found a letter with my name, the last thoughts before the grave The letter read, “My Dear departed friend, you will be alive I will be dead But I live and you die don’t be surprised at this thought, and don’t dread I wanted you to feel what I felt; unfortunately your heart to me was dead You were my hope while the rest had failed But to dust those hopes are laid I die in sorrow not in heartbreak, she never cared But you my friend I thought would be there Alas though failure I see, trusting a friend with no mercy for me And so my deranged friend’s letter ended, I was shaken, it felt strange That night I sat and I called a friend who I felt was mine I spoke with him for hours; I spoke for really long time I kept the phone and realised, no one truly is mine I opened the drawer and loaded my glass with tablets kind As I slipped into the eternal depth, I knew my friend would be saying “His Deranged Mind Called Me Last Night”
