All My Friends Are Dead

What beast of man would stain his hand,

And crush the trust he cannot stand?

What demon hides inside the mind,

To watch the truth and stay confined?

They danced like madmen through the night,

Their hollow glow a faithless light.

They raised their fingers as they fed,

On fragile hopes and words unsaid.

The one who bowed to distant gods,

Whose hands reached for what was not theirs by odds.

The one who hoarded every flame,

And left the dark to bear the blame.

The one who laughed at broken hearts,

Who tore apart what love imparts.

The one with gentle face, yet clawed,

A storm of rage behind the fraud.

I killed them with my hands alone,

No name was etched into their stone.

I cast their names where no thought blooms,

Their echoes lost in empty rooms.

They took and drained without a care,

And left a hollow, empty air.

Treachery, once loosed and free,

Unthreads the heart’s own tapestry.

And when the walls of all they knew

Collapse around the life they drew,

They’ll see the one who stayed too long,

The one they broke, the one they wronged.

But I am gone, the space I filled

Is empty now, as I willed.

Dead are those whose lies command

A grave within the soul they damned.

Memory fades like whispered smoke,

Until their name provokes no choke.

No light, no warmth, no whispered plea,

Just echoes lost eternally.