My Last Summer

This will be my last summer asking them why. Why they stepped so gently into my life, and then left with such a forceful goodbye, some not patience enough to state the real reason as to why, or like most, speak a lie. This will be my last summer asking them to explain themselves, before any other who knew them just as well, could stand up and be the first to tell. But foolishly, I sought after answers from only them, desiring the truth. If I rocked with you, I rocked with you, for you. I have no more summers left for you! None of you, and all the pain you sent me through! For this summer is indeed my last, filtering out my good, their bad. I will no longer except apologies for that tone in your voice, you chose your words, your choice, so called friendship, a blade to my back, exactly what kind of friendship is that. I have no more summers left for regrets, for the ones, I wish I never meet. I have no more summers asking why you loved her more than me, I was the last, but I was definitely the baby. I have no more summers to give to family with no union, no bonds, no strongholds amongst us. I won’t ask for support because mines was always a given, with it, came my love, dedication, and affection. With many, my heart in their hands is where I need my greatest protection. I have no more summers to waist because my summers grows shorter each and every 365 days.