Love is dead,
It was never alive.
For all of you
That believe in it,
Then prove to me where it is.
Because I don't see is
Not in the homicides,
In the suicides,
That happen every day.
I don't see it in the grieving mothers of lost children.
Love is just a word,
A word that teases and plays with peoples' minds,
And forces them to believe
That something they can't see
is there, waiting for them.
Love is what people say keeps them alive,
If that is true,
Then howcome so many people are dead because of its effects?
Love is only a maker of pain and hatred,
A never shamed creation of some cruel god.
It is an everlasting reminder of s
of something we all want,
But can never have.
So why do we all believe in it,
If all it has caused is
Pain and
Heartbrake and
Comfusion?
It leaves neverending scars
and gaping, festering holes
Where our hearts used to be.
and yet,
it's what what we all want,
What we all chase after,
And never give up on.
But love is dead,
It was never alive.