Pa'poem-poem.

A Game called Love

Love is unfair, don't you think?

You love him just in a one blink.

It seems it's odd, comparable to an ink,

Black, cold, a cyanide to drink.

You can't find the true love there,

Bcs he's one of the players, girl.

So now I'm telling you out of nowhere,

He's not going to treasure you like a golden pearl.

For him love is just a game,

And you're the loser.

For him love is just a play,

And he's the player.

A game of love that makes him happier,

If he can make the girl cry harder.

He's just appointing you as a lover,

Not his mother, not his prisoner.