A few words remain not mentioned about you and I.

In a life far from unblemished and certainly not focused

We let it slip beyond the boundaries, wither and die.

As with a famine caused by confusion and crafty locusts

That tore at the flesh of our tarnished pride

To leave nothing but shells of who we were

Screaming injustice and asking supporters to take a side

Between the myopic misery and a memory sour and blur.

This bitterness breaks us both

And sees the life left over now in living decay and dust

And hollow with its heartfelt history

Of all that we had, all that friendship and growth

Now lies with our backs against each other in mistrust

And deliberating how we do decipher the mystery.

Ian D. Hall