They say let bye gones be bye gones,
What is done is done!
But the question still stands
Was I just for fun?
My anger it begins to grow,
As I stab the paper with my pen,
My weapon of choice,
Here my voice will not be high or low,
Just read what venom is left from my biro.
Come time where I need you,
Come time where you don't.
Come time where you love me,
Come time where I won't.
These are effetcs of my venom!
Keeping my friend close, but my enemies closer,
So I call you, My Enemy? My Friend?
Your silence degrads you,
And comes to show that my chosen weapon
is victorious again!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.