Friends. That is what

They claim to be.

Yet they reek of insincerity.


They look but to not see

A heart laid bare.

It merely receives an unconcerned stare.


They hear but do not listen

To a soul that rings true.

One that now only keens with rue.


They are not what they claim to be,

for they know nothing of me.

If only they would listen and see.


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