How I hate the word passion.
Everything it is...
It's awful sting...

It is the source of our finest moments.
The joy.
The love.
The clarity of hatred.
The ecstacy of grief.

Sometimes it hurts more than you can bear.
If I,
If we,
Could live without passion,
Maybe then we'd know some kind of peace...

But then again..
Without passion
I'd be..
We'd be..
Hollow empty shells..
Vacant empty rooms..
Locked away with nothingness.
Dark and dank...


Without passion...
I'd be...
We'd be..
Truly dead....


But then again..
Maybe I already am..