Betrayal
I watch your exuberant glowing eyes as they shimmer in the radiance of your joy,
False, false joy,
The tears of your desperate smiles break from the icicle of confusion,
Confusion I cannot explain,
My mind celebrates to reflect upon your honors,
Breaking, breaking from the pure disdain I withhold inside my bones,
Spinning the wheel of indecision
Such upon this web you’ve spun, you take the throne,
“My people, I swear to honesty, I swear to dedication,”
I hear your oath of self righteousness as I lay my head upon the soft pillow,
Sinking, sinking,
I repeat your vow inside my head time and time again,
Each word spinning, twisting around your incredulous hierarchy,
I nod in belief, yet there is a feeling,
In another sense I know you are to break these words from reality,
Your honor, I will not bow down to your betrayal,
Betray me, betray us as your walls close tighter,
For I, your right hand man, could not create the security,
The look upon your face, your first face, fades away,
Your second is a twisted sharpness,
The blade of unobstructed betrayal cuts deeper into my skin,
Pressing upon my back, penetrating my flesh, reaching the depths of my being,
Just as you are about to shove the knife further into my heart, you stop,
I accept you’re tracing, mapping out my fate,
You search the bottom of your heart, pulling out forgiveness,
My apologies flood the air like poison rain,
Each stings not you, but me,
Yet I forgive,
I remember,
That knife,
The heart, stitched but never the same,
Your betrayal,
Your hate.
I am the jester, I smile and laugh. You’d never know my pain for I’m taught to wear it like a mask.
No longer,
No longer.
I feel all eyes on me, watching my every move,
Each step, a fear,
Each step, a worry,
Each step, another closer to my demise,
That sneer that pulls your lips into the state of joy, evident to those around you,
What are you gaining? Can’t you see there’s simply no point?,
Years of deception for mere moments of prize,
What are you gaining, I ask again?
For you and me, we are not the same,
My lips purse as you blur the lines of companionship and hate,
I am the jester broken but proud,
You cannot break what’s broken,
For my mask falters down,
No longer,
No longer.
Copyright © Caralee Koopal | Year Posted 2025
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