The thing about friends is at times,they can be a real pain.

They go from being close to distant, from loyal to telling everyone your secrets.

They stab you in the back, literally and figuratively, and leave you lying there, dying, with blood pouring from your chest, painting the ground a scarlet red.

They kick dirt in your face, pick you up and throw you down.

They hang with you to be part of your social status.

They hide, lie, cheat, steal and trick you and you fall for it every time.

They push you until you crack and laugh before you die.

If it was between you and them, they would rip your heart out and watch birds pick at your decaying flesh.

Behind your back they judge you and destroy you from the inside.

If they could, they would use your head for a soccer ball and/or your blood for ink.

The thing about friends is, at times, you can’t trust them.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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