"Oh what a poet I will flay myself into."
— Sylvia Plath

My Friend.

Your Name? “My Friend”,
On my part?A bad call.
Those words that you told me
lack truth after all.

Attempts to be open;
spilt secrets of youth-
My policy, honest;
to tell you the truth.

Your silence; this deadlock.
Agenda? Avoidance.
I still lack understanding
Of your blatant abberance.

Your Name “My Friend”?
You’re naught but a liar,
mounting this witch-hunt;

Come set me on fire.

Tue, March 2nd 2010

  1. appleofeden posted this