I've heard people say love doesn't exist,
And by some definitions, maybe it doesn't exist.
But seriously, if you look at it this way,
People take pleasure in making other people happy.
Not all people sure. Some people are wired wrong,
Sadists and homicidal obsessives, actively serve
What I would call hate. Yet they do so with seeming indifference.
But, on average, the joy of giving joy exists, on some form.
Even ego-centric actors and politicians,
Who seem to be driven by selfish goals,
But even they take a measure of pleasure,
When a fan says "Hey I saw you guys in the Meadowlands,
And you rocked, best concert of my life!"
Or,
"Senator Williams, I just wanted to thank you personally
For the kind words you said about my son,
It brought some closure to our loss."
When you have a particular person who you enjoy pleasing,
And who you know enjoys pleasing you,
Well , what do you call that?
Take it a step further, and add the fact, that when that person is hurting
You hurt. Their pain
Becomes yours.
Now, occasional petty jealousy aside,
Isn't it fair to call that feeling something?
Call it love, call it Love, call it Tigger Yum Yum,
Whatever.
But don't deny it exists.
Because I've seen it with my own eyes.
And I believe them before I believe silly lies.

If a monster like me could find that feeling,
And live inside of it...
Anyfuckingbody can.