Motto:

“An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast;
a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind” (Buddha)

When roses die for no reason,
A friend lets go of my hand,
Her smile – the symbol of treason,
The sweetness of playing pretend.

My little rose, you made me fall
From the top of confidence
Into the ugly endless hole,
Engraved on the last page of adolescence.

My heart is stabbed by the mask that fell,
I saw you painted in dark shades of evilness
And my astonished being cannot tell
Who captured my childhood friend full of sensitiveness.

We were two A letters playing together,
Tied up by the strong chain of friendship,
But you broke it while I was asleep
And now my soul tastes like bitter.

She fades away like a phantom,
Leaving me with the incurable symptom
Of burnt memories, wasted confessions,
Which made me feel that she had another mission…