The Title

 

Fighters can fight,

but what the hell are they fighting for?

Lovers can love, 

but in the end they only love the chore,

of loving one another,

a failed attempt at romance,

exchange this please, 

for my inclement mental forecast,

stopped in our tracks,

time will stand stolid

followers of the deadly sorrow,

that took away my hatred,

increasing thoughts of apathy,

checkmate your sympathy,

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed