The Knife In My Back

Friendship can also wear masks – smiling, sharing secrets, and then suddenly turning around and stabbing you in the back. And bitterness remains: the smell of someone else's clothes, the echo of shared promises, and blood that cools not from the cold, but from betrayal. In music, this is the point where trust turns to ashes, and the word ‘we’ shatters into sharp fragments of “I” and ‘you’.