questions from the unloved
What is love??? Knowing that it is the subject of all thoughts and wishes. What is love? Is it folley or foe? Is it wise? Is it true? Is is juvinelle? What is it? You can see it in people for flickers of hope. But in the end, love fades, no matter what people say, it is true that love does fade. Some let it fade into numbness, others bring it to a boil with pain, anger, rage, depression, feuds, jealousy, and change. What is love? Can it bring together people or seperate them forever? Can someone truely be loved? These are all questions that people who have never felt love always think but never say. How do you acquire love? Can you acquire love? Do you want to? Watching movies, and reading books, you can see love, but can it truely exist? Do books, and movies ruin the very thought of love and truth? Making them two things that are soo far from one another. This is the question. What is love? No matter how many times it is said, it is never fully answered. Maybe this is why it is such a valuable feeling, idea, object. The want is so great just to love someone and be loved in return, but does that ever happen....forever.... Taking into account that people do grow and change, but does love grow and change? Do people feel the love from one to another even if it is only one-sided? Is it okay that people aren't loved and does not mind not being loved? Others could say that love comes in all different shapes and sizes, sometimes from friends and family. Is that true? Wondering minds do question this. is it love or just instinct? Is love real? Is love true? Repeating questions knowingly will not answer them. But is it true? Is there really that one person that matches the other, or is that fable?
With dry eyes and a purst mouth, the writer wonders, ponders, thinks, dreams, collects ideas. Questions repeating in mind, fingers anxitious to type. Heart is bounding, and hands shaking. Out of nowhere, tears form and make it hard to see straight. Thinking it's time to change directions in the road to life. Choose the road pointing toward adventure, fun, exporation, spontaneity. Poor unfortunte souls.
With dry eyes and a purst mouth, the writer wonders, ponders, thinks, dreams, collects ideas. Questions repeating in mind, fingers anxitious to type. Heart is bounding, and hands shaking. Out of nowhere, tears form and make it hard to see straight. Thinking it's time to change directions in the road to life. Choose the road pointing toward adventure, fun, exporation, spontaneity. Poor unfortunte souls.