Love is something that can not be explained

But when things go wrong, love is blamed

When your soul hurts deep down inside

Take it out on love so you can hide



You can love a religion with a passion

You can love the clothes that are in fashion

You can love a thing, no one else can see

You can love the place where you want to be



So this is the question of love that I ask

I wonder if love is a face wearing a mask

Because you never get to see the real beauty

As love continues to play in its' duty



Love is the granting of a wish

Love is giving in to sweet bliss

Love is something you want to hold

Love is just as precious as gold



So what is love, could you tell me?

It seems to be everywhere, seems to be plenty

But it can hurt you, it can make you feel

Showing the question of love is always real

If you could write your life in pencil,
How much simpler things would be.
When it is turned upside-down,
the slate is wiped clean!

But then again..
writing in pen could be fulfilling too.
If the situation comes around again
a quick glance back will tell you what to do.

But what if your desire
is for your mark to appear darker?
Then might I suggest, my friend,
a big.
       fat.
           black.
                    sharpie marker?


Alas, these utensils have one piece in common.
and that piece is this:
    The output seeps from that which is within.
as does the humans mouth reflect the heart's desire;
reveals the power;the soul; what lights our fire!

       understand it, can you? can I?
can we unlock our own secrets?
                     can we even try?

but maybe then, if we do, and have anything left.
                we can say our words right.
and extend a helping hand, but with a heart contrite.
to assist others in comprehending their plight.
and then.

in the end.

maybe our words will be put into pen.
or pencil

or
big.
    fat.
       black.
                sharpie marker.