the lure

friends forgotten the fucked up thing is trust in itself can be the ultimate betrayal. Somehow catchin amnesia as what's shared has failed. Gainin ones best to use it against the one thing ever felt so pure. It's how the truth speaks once the time is spent on that individual thing that was sure. Opened up n absorbin a luv confusin the witness behind the eyes. What's fucked up is how deep intensions express actions yet words r heard as jus another line. Knowin there's nothin self can do or has done to endure what honesty should been enough. It's rough when the return of bein ensured was groped by a selfish touch. Earnin ur worth with falsifications that disrupt the pattern that can not hide. The design of movement n tone will peel back the wig so the visual display can be seen in playin sight. forgotten n forgettin the bond blinded by the act of the lure showin face. As the realization of fate fuckin surfaces burnin in the flames.