Death by the hand of a friend

Its about the betrayal of a friend

I remember,

I remember that icy cold morning,

When I called you my friend,

When I called you my brother,

I recall the leaves that morning,

Fickle and dying,

And I remember the cold steel pierce my flesh,

As if it were butter,

It was you,

You, 

The one I called my friend,

My brother,

I began to fall,

Began to to feel the warmth of my body begin to fade,

So I asked why,

What was to be gained?

He spoke of jealousy,

Of possessions,

Of people,

And of hate,

As I lie here in the puddle of my own blood I whispered,

Whispered with my last dying breaths,

My brother,

I do not seek revenge,

I do not hate you,

I only hope that you would only find peace,

As my vision begins to fade I hear the whisper of death,

So I let go into the unknow 

Author's Note

Open to all criticism.