Unspoken words, mystery of dislike.
Pretend, make an excuse, then run away.
I like the plague, every doubt is their strike.
Less than human, I must find my own way.
They and I pretend nothing is arye,
but by their actions, I am exiled.
Looks of disgust leave me wondering why,
that I'm less than human: social viled?
But I know a secret that they know not:
The knife in my back- I knew you would send.
I let you smile, and laugh with your plot.
This my last kindness to you my dear friend.
You revel as you reveal your disguise.
Irony your companion, friendship dies.