Had you stood by me, took to my side. Or had you left all things in mind of your pride. I could only imagine quite deep the despise you held in surprise.
Surprise. That which you only had done. Like the rest hadn't failed so I failed with distrust.
Distrust. Seen or be seen, the trust I had when, had now gone with wind to what I was sin and all I had then. Now all I have left, is one fewer last breath. One lesser in friends. One last amend. One lasting in circles can't make without bends.
What one heart I had. What none I could keep. Just know this from now, no amount of love, friends, pills, or drugs can cure to that heart, that broke hearted heart.
This one cluttered blob of once beating life, now held in the hands of not many bright. Could this cold, this trend, you sick hearted friend, be held in, defend, defend what you mend.
Take care, be warned to you, who you open up to. Don't turn your friends into blacksmiths too. Though yes, they mend, and they will mend your heart. Thing is they use fire. To make one ablaze. So take care, be warned, or be burned in all shame.
The moral of this story is to stop this sick game. I'm so tired. Aren't you? We've all lost so much. This never ending fleeting moments now dust. In full and in lieu, of how we pretend, the acts now all over, take cover dear friend.
I've seen way too much, now in cyanide fright, the things I took then might just last tonight. I hope to wake up in that great beyond. Or so help me God, I'll take matters to hand. And only my hands can turn matters to bright. So in dawns portrayal, in heavens sight, who cast me a spot light.
I will make things right.