Not doing things in a logical order here. Sorry, my bad. Doesn't help that my book is now falling apart either. Shuffle and reshuffle.
9/20/82 (Naples Florida)
The meaning of words
Who can be sure?
If our ears
Could only discern the truth
We'd know
The world's men prove to be liars
Never showing any trust
Don't let your guard down
Even for a minute
Beware the best of friends
Behind the smiles are daggers
To cut you deep
To make you bleed
To laugh at your pain
These are troubled times
When whispers of betrayals
Seem to drown out
Shouts of joy
Wow I wish I remembered why I wrote this. Or do I? Maybe ignorance really is bliss. I like to look ahead not dwell on the past. That's probably a good thing.
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