Friends will always come and go;
A grievous fact I’ve come to know.
Bonds are fragile, not permanent chains,
Too easily broken whenever it pertains,
Dead are the roots to hold friendship in place,
Their outstretched arms now withered from hate,
Twisted and weak, hammered by the rains;
Tears still streak my bloated face.
Loneliness… such a desolate state,
It slows the world to a lethargic pace.
Memories linger like a ghost by its grave.
