Dear Homeboy, not yours, not anyone else's, but MY HOMEBOY. You promised me infinite protection, there's still a dying bouquet of roses on my table, the ones you said represented our 'friendship.'
A golden soul a second, then a beastly flash in the end. Blue pilled nothingness about your undying 'brotherly love' towards me, but as the curtain closes, i see your maroon need i not say red soul, entirely awakening the fog of war, resurrecting my scarred smiles; blighted, tormented.
Hand written notes on the table, about how much i loathe the day i met you, trying to rewrite the fate that made our paths cross. Trying to forget it all
Maybe one day...