He helps his friends,
In the department of love.
He flies around,
With wings like a dove.
People depend on his aim,
And they depend on cupid's game.

Day and night he shoots his arrows,
To see love, lust and passion.
All around him there is romance,
Yet no one shows him compassion.
For Cupid is the god of love,
But he is only ever a single dove.

He helps those most dearest to him,
But to help himself would be a sin.
He watches love unfold everyday,
And for him that is the only way.