stool pigeon

tossed-up between

two impossibilities

I threw in the towel when it’s all so

unpredictable

and there is no way to go

when I shook hands on the new deal

all bugging disappeared

the one that digs into my skin

neck free from disrespect

you used to have it

but playing in the enemy camp

it made you so irreverent

feelings dissipated like evening fog

it will never work in the same environment

unless you find me

again

covered with ash from burnt coals

when there was no time to say a kind word

only tiny remnants of my soul

scattered on the grave

would you still remember them?

or they seem

so trite and outdated

so you can only think about other things

than old and beaten paths

not worthy of a guy in your stand

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Thank you for reading!