All is fair in love and war,
For I can covet a vile *****,
While she covers illusionary beauty,
At the brothel, her putrid store.

All is fair in war and love,
For that arrow that rose above,
Touched Gods unscathed tongue,
And redirects towards the son.

All is fair in love and war,
For an apple that sits,
Rots to the core,
But an apple that's bit,
Is that of no more,
So rot or sin,
Like kin before.

All is fair in war and love,
For when push, turns to hug,
Turns to stab, turns to shove,
Turns to turning in the grave,
Which thou hath dug,
Which thou hath paved,
Over to clave,
Death from life,
What's left is strife,
What's right is to shrug.