Wounded Passion
The thought of love is two faced
never truthful or logical
but love bending to some light
always in constant darkness
Love professes to save lives
create war and kill thousands
love gives life to hatred
yet giving life is a form of love
Why have this love then
at no cost we sacrifice to obtain it
bask in glory when its ours
cry in confusion when love is no longer
Lifetimes are accosted by love
in that such searches are meaningless
the brighter side hibernates
we await the blooms of love once more
Carry on then love
deceitful murderer of souls
your trumpets of promise sing
rampaging our world with lies
Copyright © Elizabeth Wilson | Year Posted 2005
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