The thing about betrayal,
He demands to be felt,
Caressing gently at first,
Such as a love struck couple,
But only to caught one off guard for his truest nature,
He shall ravage one's body and loins,
Laughing as a warm heat radiates off his lips,
They say he has a nice side,
Sadly one will never see that.
They say that betrayal is a tyrant,
Stripping the fabric of reality from those he steals from,
And what dose he take?
Not materialistic trinkets,
Meaningless marvels,
No my friend he steals what one can never replace,
He strips ones innocent and life with his gruff hands,
Replacing the light and joy with the truth,
Leaving one on the grounds of life,
A lesser being as before,
Shaken beyond belief of the wrongdoing that has succumb them.
They say it is possible to overcome his touch,
But, What cost must you pay? To erase the images of betrayal standing over oneself,
What is the cost?To retrieve what may never be gained,
The answer my friends,
Everything.

Why do I say this?
For one can never forget betrayal,
He remains inside oneself,
Like an insignificant gnat buzzing around one's ear,
One may never escape his grasp,
His calloused hands rubbing there hearts for all eternity,
He dose not care for beings he toys with,
Amuses himself with their torment,
No my friends betrayal demands to be felt,
Until the day one dies and is lower six feet under,
Only then is one rid of his awful touch.