Speak not to me of Love,
That cruel heartless Knave.
It is he who empties Souls
And leaves our hearts to bleed.
Love is not a thornless Rose,
All beauty with no sorrows.
as crimson flows from our pricked fingers,
His laughter rings at our tears.
With his soul-less twin Fate,
Love delights in destroying lives,
laying waste to our dreams.
Hope and Mercy are left to hang powerless,
fluttering in the wind,
Like a tired butterfly seeking her end.
So, speak not to me of love,
that cruel heartless knaves.