"love" is a game you play,
cat-chase-mouse and come in for the kill
but every playful swipe of the claws cuts deep
and the blood pours out faster than the "love"
can't you see I don't want to play anymore?
"love" is the seasons,
spring-forward, summer together, fall into bed
but you can't forget there is another season
for it is always winter in your heart
and the coldness cuts deeper than the warmth can burn
"love" is life, or so you say
but every second the end creeps nearer
because you hurt me, you slay me
and eventually I'll die for this so-called "love"
"love is suicide," disguised as feeling















Comments
Or something like that.
It's beautiful though... I can feel the pain in this, so pure.
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Nothing worth having ever comes easy...
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Nothing worth having ever comes easy...
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I "love" you so much for this. Of course when i say love Im not talking about the suicide as described in the poem you wrote.
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