It's crazy how strange love can be. Love can be sweet, sad, happy, or mad, but no matter what it's still called love. You can scream, shout, fuss, or pout, but still, end up with love. How is it that no matter what there's always love? Is it fate, true, or even a calling from above? What a strange thing is love? How we use it and not even mean it. How we say it and don't know the meaning. Why do we love? Is it something you earn and learn, or something you take and give oh so wrong. This world is full of a strange kind of love. Is love suppose to be true and cherished, or is it suppose to be a word that's abused and buried? What a strange thing is love?