Title: Love is...
by Mari from London | in writing, poetry
Love is a play, a game.
The men and women merely pawns and players,
Unbeknownst to them, love is the puppeteer and they are the puppets.
They think and feel, not with their own accord...
They are the actors and actresses that are engulfed in playing a game,
One that is aimed to hurt the heart.
Love is a play.
Ceaseless, unpredictable.
A tragic play.
One that always ends in tears...
I was in my English class and we were being taught the different types of love and I came to a realisation that love, comes to you. It isn't something that you go to but as an once in your lifetime opportunity, it comes to you. Changing you for the better or worse.
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