I thought I fell in love, but how I quickly came to see.
True Love is overrated, not meant for someone like me.
I left myself be open, entrenched and blinded by love’s design.
Engulfed by its passion, utterly lost in space in time.
I let you lie to me and make promises I know you wouldn’t keep.
And now those lies and promises are painful memories making me weep.
Knowing the end was inevitable, still I made this dubious choice.
And felt a pain immeasurable, when I listened to my heart’s voice.
I built my walls around just to have you tear them down.
And now I stand here alone, and you’re not even around.
What is love but a feeling, a word often used in jest.
An ephemeral emotion, not worth the time to develop and invest.
A captivating story, ending only where it starts.
An all-too predictable cycle, this game of broken hearts.
Though yielding temporary happiness, it ends in bitter grief.
The absence of all hope and faith, of comfort and relief.