When did life
Become a rusted knife
A world so negatively rife
That tries to cut away what’s best in us?
When did I
Become another lie
The voice atop a visage shy
And every failing seems like just enough?
When did we
Become a tearful plea
For closeness to become a sea
That silences the truths we’d best discuss?
When did you
Become the person who
Was nothing like the one I knew
By opting for a path of lessened trust?
When did this
Become where I exist
Where rusted blades can slowly twist
And every blessing turns to tetanus?