Petals of Deceit

Rose petals pressed dead between hand written pages
Rescued from the final insult, among crumpled words
And this mornings half eaten discarded Danish

From a friend that was once trusted, but never twice
Reminders of the knife twisted in blatant cruelty and greed
Conscience or remorse, mere words scattered about these pages

Acrid scent of decay, fragrance of honour brittle and crumbling
A façade of false beliefs, in ruins, this construct of insanity 
The blind leading the fallen, battling over scraps of discarded pastry 

And yesterdays fallen trust, where discarded friends are laid bare

Stoic Poetry

14 thoughts on “Petals of Deceit

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