Where is betrayal bred?
Is it in a friend's ignorant curse
Or in a companions slippery crisis fingers?
Is it in that knife stab through a last drown
or in the guile of a heart once loved?
Is it in dead silence of one once trusted?
Real betrayal perhaps
is born best within oneself:
In those survival negations
of loved ones' folly,
In that lying to your heart
just to save the reality
of being betrayed
In that survival freaky style
of denying a betrayal in the mind
of perpetual struggle within
to darn a dead dream.
