This Love Of A Thing
What exactly is this feeling called love
Preachers preach of it, singers sing of it.
Why do singers liken it to a beautiful dove?
Or why do preachers liken it to God’s spirit?
I would say boldly that love is a thief
Very delicate, but man is still reckless
Manhandling it brings us great grief
Possibly leave you in a terrible menace.
Love, i would continue to say is a freak
Makes us compromise against our wish.
With every single person it keeps a streak
Hooked up in sticks like an unlucky fish.
The love we share with everyone is not same
The love for your crush and brother differs
Unless it could be said that you are insane
Or like vamps, you’ve got no blood nor livers.
But why is this love of a thing never resting.
Embarrassment means nothing to love.
I just realized it could be so distressing
Love won’t let us release it like a dove.
All i wish is for it to go its way and let me be
Maybe hunt someone else but go very far