An old friend once wrote
of a lie long forgotten
in lines of a poem
mistakes turned rotten
We were children lying
Wicked wheels in the streets
We were undeveloped
Just finding our way, indiscreet
I wish I could see the hues
you used to paint the past
but like fragments they fade
memory could never last
All I remember deeply
Was hiding from the pain
We dabbled at what felt like love
We played in the rain
We wanted it all to last
never forggotten
this tretcherous past
I think we all play at lies as children
We shuffle what we think is right
Childhood is godless
We fear no retribution or might
And when you spawn in chaos
Like we all clustered did
Then lying is survival
And I was just a kid