Best-For:
Readers navigating the fallout of a toxic friendship, individuals healing from the sting of a brother turned into a stranger, & anyone who has ignored the neon-red flags of a habitual liar.
The Vault:
- The Metaphor: The Chucky reference is a childhood favorite weaponized.
- The Contrast: The perpetual self-inflicted rain clouds versus the wasted positivity poured into a one-sided bond.
- The Ending: The stark, modern embarrassment of being “left on delivered” after a lifetime of history.
I wrote this piece as a confrontation an ex-friend; he suffers from the “Good Guy” archetype. Thus hiding a much darker reality to his personality.
This poem explores the moment the nostalgia wears off and you realize the person you called a brother was actually plotting on your misery. While kt is also about the heavy lifting you do when carrying someone else’s negativity until you finally drop the weight.
“The Good Guy Friends Til’ The End”
An Original Poem by: Axton N.O. Mitchell
You said it just like chucky
“We’re friends ’til the end!”
My favorite childhood movie
You pulled a nostalgic string, loose.
Thread worn and weathered as my soul
already was.
I ignored the neon blinking red flags
blame it on bpd blacks and whites. and
always needing to see it for
myself, won’t take the word
of someone else.
When it would be the one thing to save me.
The end on your screen.
Somehow my mom dying prepared me
for many things.
Though you aren’t close to dead
you are worse than buried to me
I see you as below the enemy
supposed to be my brother
from another.
Is this why you lost your
living family?
Can’t stay ten toes down for
someone always plotting on
worsening
anyone’s misery.
so full of fucking
negativity. No matter how much positivity
is wasted on your perpetual
self-inflicted rain clouds
and yet….
we’re both still breathing.
I should have known words have no meaning instead I listened when you said
“We’re friends til’ the end”
Hey, how come neither of us
Is dead? You use people like a
habitual liar does lines
neither can keep anything straight
from the chaos they create
and pretend is out of their control.
A pussy who can never
stand by his whole
truth, open your eyes…
blinding them to the truth
Won’t change
Their root… here’s a clue
The problem is always you.
Change your name until you
find one to
fit a chameleon,
changing its skin.
Problem, liar, and other choice
phrases you’ve heard
a time or two.
Pos but you’re good at your game.
When your friends go through
Emotional pain plan your attack.
You are that fucking Wack.
Sabotaging every good thing
sent your direction.
Maybe you deserve
wallowing in your
self-inflicted emotions.
Alone for eternity.
But I will keep pressing send
sitting here left on delivered
not even making it to seen
embarrassing.
🖤Praise, questions, critique are all invited.
Contact, Questions, or Concerns?
Poet-Note:
I’ve always felt the need to see things for myself, even when the red flags are blinking right in front of me. This piece reflects that struggle. While also acknowledging my tendency to see things in black-and-white only.
Watching me work at trying to find meaning in words that were ultimately empty; my realization that some people stay in a cycle of chaos because they refuse to look at the root of their own problems.
The poem ends with the harsh reality of being “left on delivered.” It serves as a final word to someone who is “worse than buried.” A man who is still breathing but is functionally dead as is the bond we once shared.
I am choosing to stop wasting positivity on a perpetual rain cloud and acknowledging that the problem was never me.
TLDR:
A visceral takedown of a fake friend which uses childhood nostalgia to show his manipulation of others. The poem tracks my journey from ignoring red flags to recognizing a habitual liar’s pattern of sabotage. Where I ultimately concluded that some people are better off left in the isolation they create for themselves.
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