Flimsy

Those who like to say,
They are friends.
Only when they are not being inconvenienced,
By a truth...
That puts them on the line,
Behind denials they did something dishonest.
And not admitting it publicly...
Since this might conflict,
With lies they find hard to remember.
Told with equal conviction.
Added with a seeping reek,
Of overdone sincerety.
Flimsy they are.
False and disposable.
Useless commodities,
No one needs!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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