Petals of Deceit

Petals of deceit pressed dead between hand written pages Rescued from the final insult, among crumpled documents and this mornings half eaten Danish From a friend once trusted but never twice Faded reminders of the knife twisted in blatant cruelty and greed Conscience or remorse, mere words scattered about these pages Acrid scent of decay, fragrance of honor brittle and crumbling A façade of false beliefs, in ruins, this delusional construct of insanity laid bare The insane leading the fallen, battling over scraps of discarded pastry and yesterdays friends. Stoic