Love is a cold thing
Darker than black humor
With the possibility to fuck you up
It is truly made for nonsense people
That are used to being tortured
Few are those who can withstand it
And those who cant name the others as stupid
It’s a liberal shape of irony
That makes the one who possesses it the personified form of what it is
We all want it, fear and loathe it
Even though we daze on what it develops
And it’s the wrath of love on what humans rise upon
Not considering that they can fall
And when they do fall
Feelings of unknown nature start to come up
So there we have the apprehended human state called Heartbreak
Somehow Love is the coma of your loneliness
Something you always requested from life desperately
You give it a shot
Consciously knowing that only the solitude will sustain after it
So what kind of conscience makes you execute your own sanity?
It’s the kind of conscience that believes that there is no AFTER IT
