A friend

I honestly like the color green;
it is the only colour I've never been.
For there is a way that our skin turns
when it is blessed by bruises and burns.
A child, a student, an adult, or me;
With each well known touch sets our blood free.
To flow away; not hindered by flesh
or to disperse inside our skin-toned mesh.
I stare in wonder at my old friend,
who comes whenever I can not defend.
I glance up; an arm is raised to strike;
his eyes glared while mine are wide.
I wince and cry out in an accustomed pain,
for I have been given a friend again.