Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Love. Why is everyone concerned about it? Does it make you feel good writing about it? All the ones that's been in your life, The ones who are important to you, The ones that make your stomach quiver, And then are gone like it was a dream. A dream. You awake to new perspectives, Like these loves had a way to teach. But really it isn't love at all, Just a feeling. Who's to say what you're feeling, Is is compassion or is it admiration? Just another stumbling block, Take that love and shuv it! I can care ******* less about your love, Too many ******* people don't know what it is. I can care ******* less who's beside you in bed, Can't you ******* write anything worth while? Talk about anything ******* else than his lips, Talk about anything else than her heart. Who ******* gives a good gooddamn? Waste my ******* time reading your ******* **** I don't ******* understand, Why anyone would persue love? I, myself, choose death, The black dharma of the night. Here comes the pain, And ******* love had nothing to do with it So keep writing about love, You'll get it sooner or later. Unless the boogieman gets you first!
0
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
Keep Writing About Love (You'll Get It Sooner Or Later)
Love. Why is everyone concerned about it? Does it make you feel good writing about it? All the ones that's been in your life, The ones who are important to you, The ones that make your stomach quiver, And then are gone like it was a dream. A dream. You awake to new perspectives, Like these loves had a way to teach. But really it isn't love at all, Just a feeling. Who's to say what you're feeling, Is is compassion or is it admiration? Just another stumbling block, Take that love and shuv it! I can care ******* less about your love, Too many ******* people don't know what it is. I can care ******* less who's beside you in bed, Can't you ******* write anything worth while? Talk about anything ******* else than his lips, Talk about anything else than her heart. Who ******* gives a good gooddamn? Waste my ******* time reading your ******* **** I don't ******* understand, Why anyone would persue love? I, myself, choose death, The black dharma of the night. Here comes the pain, And ******* love had nothing to do with it So keep writing about love, You'll get it sooner or later. Unless the boogieman gets you first!
james-arthur-powell
Written by
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem