Bread-and-Swords

My dear Donald, how I loved you, how your face was so cheerful through the darkest of days, how I held you so tightly, never leaving your gaze, how the knife hurt, as you dug it deeper in my stomach, cooing to me softly, I heard you have a new lover, fresh from the box, She's young and pale, and wise as well, You can't see me anymore, I'm sure of that, but you can still feel me, while I'm six feet under, don't be alarmed, dear Donald, don't fret, sleep with your arms around as if you care, for in the morning, she will weep, Oh yes, dear Donald, sleep peacefully, for tonight I come to take back what's mine.

Are you my friend? Are you someone I should associate with? Can I even trust you? Is every word that passed your lips even real? If I told you my secrets, would you keep it between us? Won’t you please stay by me? Aren’t you suppose to make me smile? I know a “friend” is suppose to give some sort of love They need to be loyal, compassionate, honest, dependable and maybe even a bit accepting towards me Am I right? Or is that a lie? Am I wrong? Are you my enemy? Are you someone I should avoid at all costs? Are you someone mistrustful? Is every word you let slip through you fake? If you found out my secrets, would you tel