Sometimes a loss is not about a thing:
Sometimes a loss does not regard a life.
Occasion brings the loss of trust's bright ring...
And death of all that true friendship derive.
Each time they talk you wonder why they say
A word to you: Why should they speak at all?
When they converse with you day after day,
Each smile makes the height of trusting fall.
All you can think is that you're being used,
That greed is driving them to be your friend.
That as they speak they're quietly amused,
At all the blind believing at your end.
You're well aware you need to cut them off...
Even if cruel kindness the idea scoff.