Saturday, 19 June 2010

Feeder (Your Soul, I Think, Is Sinking)

Your mind - fried through years of fears,
Your intent - betrayed by crocodile tears
Your truth - lost, buried with sympathy
By your weak tendency to abuse all empathy.

Your behaviour - translucent, aghast in shame
By the trust of others you gained in my name.
No words - no action - will feed what you need
In this bed of roses, you thrived like a weed.

My message to you, whom I once dared call “friend”
Is but an alien concept, one you won’t comprehend:
He who lives by the sword, surely dies by the sword -
A heavy price that none can afford.

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