Knife in my Back

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I trusted you,
With my treasure chest of secrets,
My jewels of embarrassment,
My gold of the deep darkest, and
I asked you,
To keep my treasure safe,
Don’t let anyone find it.

Yet, did you?
No, of course you couldn’t.
Take my gold,
And you look a gift horse in the mouth,
And you analyzed,
You shaped and molded,
The blacksmith of your lies,
Spun from my bits of truth.

And sent it away,
Gone with the traveler that follows the wind,
Whispered to the flowing stream,
Screamed to the clouds in the sky.
My gold turned brass,
You pounded and folded,
Fabricated,
To what offers the most to you.
And now, when I look at my gold,
It isn’t mine at all.

I called you a friend,
Said I’d trust you with my life,
But trust is a delicate thing, my friend,
Can be easily torn, shredded,
Lost forever.
Somehow, you didn’t understand,
You missed the hint,
That you shouldn’t tell,
That my prized thoughts were mine,
And not for sharing?

So, I’ll leave you in peace,
Not much can be said.
Do I hate you?
Nah, I liked you too well,
When you and I were still on the same page,
But I’ve moved on,
And I’m not saying I’m happy.
Before I move along,
Could I ask,
If you could be so kind as to
Remove the knife from my back?





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