So often we associate love directly with pain.
We accuse it of causing us
Anguish
Damage
Misery.

Irrationally deciding
To never engage
With another being
On this deeper level again.
Convinced
We must avoid such harm.

But wait—
Is this merely a way
To justify the ways in which
We allow our feelings to hold the power?
Consume us
Confuse us and
Take complete control?

Strip down your hurt
Your anger and
Your bitterness.  
You may see clearer
Recognizing
It is not the presence of love that is hurtful.

Rather
The absence of love
The loss of love
The misidentification of love
Igniting these feelings within.

Truth is,
When love is open
Honest
Pure and
Present
It is truly an invaluable treasure.

Adam’s urination was obnoxious in duration
Misidentification of the peeing location
Caused initial complication, then a long deliberation
Yet upon his infiltration of the urinary station
We waited in frustration, with a growing perturbation
But soon anticipation, fell to demoralisation
Why this elongation of his bladder evacuation?
Is his stream without cessation in this lengthy expellation!?
We waited in vexation through lavatorial vacation…
Was it *** misapplication, needing re-sanitisation?
Or perhaps an altercation with the flush mechanisation?
Or maybe ******* for some cheap gratification?
Excuse the scandalisation of his prolonged defecation
This versification of constipation has a solid allegation
Tis not a fabrication, that a massive **** was taken!