The Pretenders

Like wolves
who masquerade as sheep
they pretend
to be my friend whenever they
want something

Have lots
of good things to say
that is
until they don’t need
me anymore

Their hunting
knives they store in my back
rend me with
the claws of their words dripping
with hatred

Far better
to walk alone than to be lured
into the
trap of their lying words stabbed
in the back

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