Who Are We To Speak Of Love

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Who are we to speak of love?

When we are not ready to rise above

Of the hatred and selfishness inside of us

No wonder our lives are a muss.

It's supposed to be selfless and caring

And not selfish and deceiving.

It's misinterpreted everyday

Its true meaning has been washed away.

This feeling we cannot comprehend.

It's so deep, it has no end.

But we do put full stops to it

Diminishing its value in a second split.

We need to learn what is love again

Define it; understand it; embrace it: for men.

We need to let go of our bitterness

Nothing more, nothing less.

Who are we to speak of love, indeed.


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