Feeling a winter's-blade I sit.
Uncertainty encompases me
A secret, clueless on how to defend
Or which confidant to favor
But would it be me they’d accuse?
Not wanting the taunting secret
Knowing grass grows greener by the crow
Shall stay under till’ more than a wonder
Close-packed with both of my friends
I am juggling jack o lanterns
Question? What is righteous from wrong?
Wishing it just never happened.
Why tell? Knowing I’d be conflicted
Her vile secret put me in a taxing place
She fornicated with my other friends lover
It is now when fellowships descend
Realizing this is getting me nowhere
I seek advice from my mother, who
Suggests a deal with the betrayer
Tell her, “It’s either I spill or you”...“It’s either I spill or you”, I say