See Love,
Love is a peculiar thing,
It makes ridiculous sorts of people,
It makes people lose their way,
Love ultimately, is what traps us but at the same time frees us,
It allows us to grow as elegantly as a flower,
But then makes us burn to ash in a wildfire,
The peculiar thing though,
Is that love will never die,
It is a constant disease that fails to be submitted,
It is a raging emotion that causes the desperate to act immorally,
Love, truly is a danger,
A danger to society,
And a danger to the human body,
Even though it would be good to part with,
Love sometimes betters us,
It sometimes makes us indestructible,
Love is a peculiar thing,
A peculiar thing that has no boundaries.
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PoetryA collection of poetry inspired by feelings, events, unfortunate/fortunate memories and ambitions.
