does love conquer all?
it’s a funny notion –
for all it ever taught me was defeat:
defeat so debilitating,
it borders on cruelty;
cruelty so brazen,
it borders on psychopathic;
it makes you feel like a man,
as it grips you by the *****;
makes you feel like a pig,
while it humours your piety.
given a chance,
it would split you in half:
one half –
pulling punches;
the other half –
paralyzed by reproach;
you want to kick love
in the teeth;
you want to love love
with all your heart;
you want to do both –
and not lose your mind  
at the same time.
you want to choke love’s
throbbing throat:
watch it gag on
your undying passion;
and when the war is over,
you’re left wondering –
‘was it even a fair figh—
                          — oh, right… that was never in the picture.’  

so, i guess –
love does conquer all:
all that you are,
all that you’ll ever be,
and all that’s left of you.