Webs - Poem by Donald Yates
What tangled webs we weave
though unknown to all,
As we practice to deceive
We watch the next man fall.
Words flow like rose scented wind
when standing eye to eye,
And then the truth we will bend
without a reason or why.
The mind rots and finely dies
in he who says he's friend,
When behind your back he lies
a distorted picture he'll send.
Don't fall into the web
speak only good of others,
When all is done and said
Treat your friends as brothers.
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