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Imaginary Friends?

The problem from which I was suffering
began when I was a young lad.
I used to talk to my imaginary friends,
and for their friendship I was glad.

But now that I’m very much older,
countless hundreds I talk to and see.
Most are interesting and harmless,
but there are others who get to me.

Some people say that I have a gift from God,
and others say I shouldn’t mess with the dead,
but whatever they say, I have no choice,
they’re actual and not in my head.

I can’t explain where they come from,
and I can’t say who they are.
I don’t know if they’re trapped aliens,
who once came from a distant star.

I don’t know if they are the spirits
of those that once walked this land,
or if they’re the thousands of fallen angels
that were banished by God’s command.

Many times I’ve asked where they come from
and they say that they once lived on Earth.
They also say that they will always be there
and they see every new death and birth.

poem by Orlando Belo
Added by Poetry Lover
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