A Young Poet's Thoughts Upon Life

A Line Amongst the Soul

They say there is a clear line in love.
But when they say this, do they know what love is?
Is this love a pure force, or rather a demon?
We are attracted to it, for it puts on a facade.
One finds it's beauty in pain, when it leaves blood.
They find grace in the way it lashes out.
We cover it in a blanket to represent warmth,
because we are to scared to see its true face.

Love is a tool, used by the stronger to get the weak.
The weak seek love, as a means to fix themselves;
Two weaks together, make a single strong,
but what if two strongs collide?
There we find lust, where one person loathes,
while the other sulks, each over the other.
Love feeds on people who either lust,
or seek the one who will hurt them.

A person in themselves, is a puzzle;
Each one is delicately crafted, not one a replica.
However, one person still has unconnected pieces,
Where they often have a match, never perfect.
True love is formed when one sees they
Are perfect in themselves, but not complete.
They must seek someone, who fills their picture,
And fix themselves to make it work.

Weak people and strong people do not work,
One person's picture nearly complete.
A weak has a side unconnected,
Where they connect with another weak to form
Making something strong.
A strong is half finished, where one part of a side
Blocks itself and another is open for their lacking;
Two strongs lacking the same, can earn it together.

Love is a demon, shunned by those who can't see,
that beauty is on the inside and that it lashes,
not in anger, but in fear of what will happen.
Love is used to hurt, for it never is love that hurts.

Love feed upon the negative as it saves,
Poor and weak souls who cannot take more.
Love may bring lust, but never purposely,
For love is merely an angel, shunned by those who cannot see a gift when it is give to them.