Almost At the Bottom of It
A friend of a friend is never a friend,
Enemies seem to follow you,
down that dead end.
What’s real?
Love is never pretend,
Well…..love used to be real before text and send.
Love is lust and lust is….trust.
Trust is just love without the fights and fuss.
Is that real? Depends on who’s asking?
Who’s want love without the passion?
Imagine if love left trust at the alter?
Left love without a father,
And never was there to teach them trust?
Then it’s tough luck,
Dawn to dawn, dusk to dusk.
Without a meaning,
Caught inside a constant state asking what?
I thought you knew?
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