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.
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