Love in my mind is acting aloof
It’s jumping over rooftops while playing the flute
I tried to tread past it ever so lightly
So that its murderous gaze would not see me so lively
It cares not about love for me
And it certainly cannot feel any for thy
We know that a narcissist loves only himself
But what about those who simply know to be careful?
A mind is created to think of itself
It conjures diversions to hide it, even from itself
Everything else is a pleasant delusion
Sometimes finding itself trapped on the brink of desolation
Squinching its eyes, hoping for diffusion
Time has created a person who loves
True is the one who knows whom he really does