Dying love in a gilded cage,
Imprisoned by my pent up rage.
You never loved me, but neither did I,
The last gift you gave was the gift of goodbye.

I can still hear the echoes in the playground.
Round and round we go.
Kickstone and grass stained clothes,
The lampposts sundials, calls us home.

We could stay out until the sun goes down,
And even later if allowed,
Look at you now.
A shadow in the distance,

The big city called your name and you answered that call of fame,
Before you recognised the mistake you made.
What a fateful day that was,

My fragment of a friend