The phone no longer rings;

“friends” are nowhere to be found.

What misery their silence brings,

their absence so profound.

No more lazy lunches,

or little gifts for friendship’s sake.

Gone are the leisurely brunches,

their love and support they now forsake.

Beggars can’t be choosers, they tell me.

Forget your dignity and take whatever you find.

Their comments land so inconsiderately.

This is the concrete jungle grind.

The parasites can no longer feed.

Invites are now few,

as their tentacles quickly recede.

No one is left but me in this crew.