It's
a man's greatest desire,
and is hunted down,
but little does he know,
that it is not a noun. It
holds the potential, the
capability to fade,
leaving the man, forever afraid.
An
angle's weapon, and
the devil's toy. A
deadly venom, that nurtures
joy.
If
it's not secure, it eats
away at your health.
The only cure, is the killer itself.
Right or
wrong,
it doesn't care. Everything's fair,
in this monster's lair.
Is it
good, is it bad? Nobody
knows. Hope and
innocence, are
it's only foes.
With
broken souls,
washed up on it's shore,
it remains a curse, forevermore. A twisted gift,
from the heavens above, a tragic miracle,
that we call love.
