Let them not see,
the me,
not the 'I',
that would cry
at a child's pain.
Let them not know,
the flow,
of rot spoiled mind,
driven insane.
"Can't we just be friends?"
damned words into my heart rends.
Chuckle and smile,
in denial,
of the true hand
that lacerates the jugular grand,
for the beauteous river of red.
And she,
she frolicks in the fields
of infedelity,
ripping my soul,
taking away all that was free,
within me,
leaving me to stand allone,
in the land,
makings circles in the sand,
that the foundations of my sanity,
are built on.
To whirl and spin
in this world of sin.
