Written by: Funshio The Poet

It binds firmly
Leaving no room to ramble
Of an unsweet taste it is
Yet in naivety we hasten to taste of it
Until the flesh of our tender hearts
Are scarred by its unrelenting grip
The memories forever tattooed on our souls
But then it becomes too late
Wriggling out becomes an utmost impossibility
A thought of breaking through is arrant nonsense
So we writhe in pain
Waiting for soothe to come
Endless the pain may seem
But only after a while, yea! a while
It unbinds itself	
And gradually it does
Leaving room for the bruised flesh to heal
The scars however are indelible
A reminiscent of the shackles of love.