A Curse


They say make love, not war

But there’s always a constant battle

With my heart

I’m always fighting for another

And with every battle

I grow weaker

Losing soldiers, losing power

And battle after battle,

I lay wounded;

With bloody gashes,

And screams

Bursting from my lungs.

I stand on two wobbly feet again

Looking in the eye of the enemy

We shake hands

With gentle smiles

And they knock me off my feet again.

My heart is a fool for believing

That it could ever be loved

Or that it could ever love in return.

It is a curse

That the love gods have put upon us

That there will always be love in war

And war in love.



Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741