Under the Painted Over Picture

It’s a WW

It’s mayhem across the peaks


They met up.

Those people I know,

Met up.

And they hate each other.


My friends

Whom I found

In similar circumstances

Nursing broken wings

That I mended

By slaughtering their past memories

And placing on them instead

Happy pictures of me


Happy aside,

It’s really just all a mess


They go at each other

With a sense of conviction

Trying to make me

Hate the  friend who opposes them


Was each person’s prior person

Whom I painted over

With myself

The one I now call my friend?


Their hate of each other

Unbearable saying the least…

Is it all some fault of mine?

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