An Arsenal of Heavy Metal Miracles Inside the Atria and Ventricles

“O friends, there is no friend.” ~ Diogenes Laertius

A bombshell blasting made of misery,

Exploding misery is what he feels.

The bomb that he experienced falls free

Of love, of friendship.  Mostly men are eels,

Not meant for classic modes of friendship.  Males

Think life is sport, or worse.  A friend is foe.

No friend exists for them.  Each friend impales

His friend if necessary.  Friendship is man’s woe

If he is lamb-like in his love.  A blade

Will slam his crotch from noble, trusted friend,

The truest, noble sentiment betrayed.

A truthful prophet predicates the end.

  Beware the brutal hearts of men.  They smile.

    The chambers of their hearts are heaped with guile.

©  Phillip Whidden