Love

Love is a black card waiting to be filled.
It's emptiness overtakes you,
You the man or woman who knows it all,
You, with their heart chilled,
You, who has not paid your due,
You... The one set up for the fall.

When we see it, it fills us with hope,
We look for it, in the eyes of a stranger,
We search for it, where ever we go,
It is filled with Beauty, Thrillment, and Danger.
It is a test, an experiment and a show.

Love can never be bought,
Nor can it be sown,
It isn't to be given in charity,
Love is not a written art, so it can never b e bought,
It can be borrowed or on loan,
It does need to be studied, but it's never seen with clarity.



Thanks Cheif. I appreciate it. I know it sounds bad, and it is, but you know me better then most, and I think you know what I am capable of, and what I do to vent out pent-up emotions. This is if you are who I think you are. If not, then I apologize for this. I guess I just need somewhere to bitch an complain. And I know that my family probably see's this. And thats ok. I am alive, and know what it is like to be concerned. But I have to vent somewhere, and I was pretty low, and meant everything I said. But that does not mean I would follow through.