The words we share are not of those,
That we consider love.
For what can we see, with this prose,
is not that high above.

As to such, as you may say,
Sadness bears no lie.
For what it can, is try to sway.
The way in which we die.

So look not, on other things.
For the bluebird sings.
As they fly into the sky,
Not knowing anything.

The tears we weep, was it worth it all?
When spring turns into fall.
The flowers bloom, then wither away.
But we do not.
We choose to stay.

And stand up to those feelings.
Those we find appealing.
Joy. Pleasure. Love. Hate. Sadness. Pain. Pain.

and we don't move.
We choose to stay.
Never moving for anyone.
Again.