Love is a liar, a user, a drug. Yes, I'm standing on a soap box, I'll preach free of charge. So come one, come all, and hear it from the heart-broken heart-breaker.
Love cannot be trusted, yet we wash the blood of it's previous victim off the blade and take another stab. I ask you humans: Why? What is it in love that keeps you longing for it's ghost? A ghost that you can not see, just feel. A phantom that promises only wickedness and mischief.
Love will leave you broke at the corner store, with just a quarter to your possesion. Though you know you should save, you'll waste it on one more love song. A quarter wasted. Three minutes flowing out the open window, three minutes of wasted time.
Love can be compared to Lucifer, decieving and questionable. Leaving mankind unwanted in god's arms. Unwanted in our own.
So if you could, please, step on my soap box and whisper to me, fragil mind, why love is worth the sacrifice.
I see a dove overhead, I see a crow in it's path. A worthy fight, or a massacre at hand?