• Love is but the scraps of ripped up love letters

    Written by no other than fools in love

    Of which in their haste to cling so desperately

    To the one who claims their love evermost affectionately

    A piece of the Heart is transformed

    When the most divine shatters our world

    Thus creating the everlasting wheel of remorse

    For things and lovers of the past that we most foolishly thought

    Ravished in one anothers embrace

    The thought of ones lips enough to arouse

    The Heart crushing words to much to bear

    Hide from them in utter despare

    Cower at these words my idotic fool

    Join the never ending pool

    Of unwanted and broken hearts

    Made into strands of inconsistant uncertanties

    Undecisiveness is courtess you see

    When it lies you heart down

    And you most foolishly obey

    You whimper as your heart is torn out

    And feed to the many hungry wolves called men

    These words everlasting in you head:

    OUR LOVE IS DEAD