Love is a sick thing,
It writhes around and attacks people,
One by one.
We all hit the floor,
Screaming,
And then
The lucky ones find another,
So they can share the pain together.
Some are not as lucky,
And they live with it,
Alone.
And so
I do not
Can not
See the
Beauty
Of love
For it
Does not
Exist.
