Thursday, March 1, 2012

Strange

Sometimes blinded by its glory,
sometimes knowing it is not that easy.
When you acknowledge it,
it becomes a drug,
when you ignore it,
it is tough.

You would think that it can change each other,
for better or for worst,
one would never know.
But in your own space, my dear
I know i can never understand.

I cannot call this thing, love,
for love knows many wondrous beauties.
Yet this thing people claimed to be love,
it pricks and it hurts,
feeding you not true happiness,
but like a carrot before an ass.

How strange it is,
for this we sacrifice.
We strive and cry,
we talk and try...
Yet, all these actions,
Serve only to seek approval.

- SL. 1 March 2012-

No comments:

Post a Comment