I remember when I was still young
And had been to war
And returned to home
And thought but that others were good
Not yet knowing or understanding
That I was too trusting,
So very naïve,
Learning too late
That others could be bastards
When jealous of your potential happiness.
Even an old friend can twist the blade well
So well that you didn’t feel it at all at the time,
Only later, when the festering made it real,
When the pain covered the tears
And the hurt covered the anger.
Only then did I learn.
Only then.

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