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