Lover

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It’s a lie, of course. This thing we call love.
Feeble emotion, all bunched up.
Tie and attach yourself to another.
Seconds, minutes, years to suffer.

Unrequited love; the ultimate defeat
Swearing off another lover to ever meet
Never again! Your brow thick with sweat
Eyes blurred with tears, body sick with fret.

Then comes betrayal; a much twisted fate.
It destroys the mind, consuming it with hate.
How quickly it morphs, this prior obsession
Now all lovers are brutally questioned.

Oh how I loathe love more than anything else.
It withers away at ones’ self
And yet, what would this dark world be without such fools
Willing to give themselves, with everything to lose.

For love like this makes the very body sore
An affection as such never felt before
And each time we love, we swear it’s the last
Say this now, lovers strewed in our past

But all this love brightens the being
Illuminates the world and everything we’re seeing.
Because even with affinity, we hate another
At least our love, some sins does cover.

 

 

 

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