Some,
Are friends,

And to aall of those friends,  you are just a friend. Any one of them. Today your best, tomorrow rest, and then a Judas’ friend.

For friends are not foes, nor foes your friends.  Time and wealth, love or pain, grief and hate, all or one, a mirage that turns to foe, a friend.

Some,
Are bad friends,

And from aall of those friends, you’re just a blink away, from foe to friend. Like a sheath is to a sword,  a sheath is to a dull blade… “Nipson anomēmata mē monan opsin“

One knows that one is all to all, and all are all to one, the smile that shakes the hand, the evil grin of a knife at play. The tears. The Joy. Revenge

Some,
Are Machiavellian friends,

And of aall those friends, the one who’s meant to stay, will step away and claim your head…