In shadows cast by ego, harsh and bold, There stands a figure, Mr Toal by name, With words like daggers, cutting deep and cold, A friend, they say, yet plays a different game. His laughter rings, but echoes hollowed jest, When need arises, silence reigns the day, Support, it seems, is buried in his chest, And kindness lost, like leaves that fade away. In moments dark, the sun he claims to hold, Yet blinds the hearts around with glaring pride. A bond once valued, now feels bought and sold, For friendships light, he seems to turn and hide. So here is a truth, though harsh it may appear: In arrogance, my friend, you disappear.