As I was diligently paying bills for the month, I grabbed a writing pad randomly from a stack near my computer. I found this poem I wrote last April. As I read it, I remembered the poem, know the poem’s persona, but I don’t remember the actual writing of it, though I know I was hurting badly during that time.  I thought the poem was worth posting and that it reveals something significant regarding our human existence.

Friends are betrayed

Because of duty, politics, jealousy,

For 30 pieces of silver,

For a bit of life-drama perhaps,

Sometimes, they’re betrayed for no reason at all.

Betrayal slashes through to the heart,

To the core of your being,

Severing the arteries of the soul,

Causing you to bleed to death in sadness.

Betrayal is a lead-filled blackjack

Pummeling, hammering, pounding,

Until you hemorrhage  inside,

Until kidney, liver and heart have burst.

It’s like a rape . . .

An act of violence,

A breach of trust,

And the betrayed ones,

Are never, never the same again.