Friends

Who shall I call when things go south
The stench of hate reeks from their mouth

They true colours exposed
A shame to conceive

Behind the all the faithful deeds
Was a broken and shattered smile

Though it they deceive
And lure you like prey

A fish on a hook
On you they shall feast

When evening sun sets
It leaves you in despair

No different from a shadow
It left nothing to spare

The Real Hypnotic
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