A desolate stench hangs in the air.
No more can I take, stand up to this
Flattery—a great betrayal that kills me within.
My friends—all I had and now left with,
Turned out to be fake and very cheap.
Out of kindness of my heart, I reached
Them, stood beside them, supported and replenished.
Seems they had ulterior motives wrapped within.
Ah, those birds of prey… They used me.
Leeches! They’re only for the moment.
Unto the moment that serves them, and
Take leave leaving no trace behind.
It begs the question “Why do they even
Have a heart?” It’s not a heart that
Beats, but an iron clock that ticks.
They smile at me as they really mean.
Poke me, as if it’s sincere in intent.
I know them for who they really are!
Devoid of emotions, numb to sentiments,
They are the walking dead. And I fear that
If I’m to put up with them, I too will
End up such vile at heart, and
Cowardly bent would be my back.
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