Love, a wonderful thing,
Oh the joy it can bring,
Until it enslaves two to love the one,
Then a war it has begun.
When two people love the same,
Life tends to become a game,
Of who can get the third person first,
And they will fight until they burst.
One had had him first, but was left,
The other just talked, maybe she was daft,
Maybe both of them need to stop,
Before he begins to blow his top.
But maybe in the end,
They all will be friends,
For nothing could last that long,
I sure hope that I am not wrong.
Comments about this poem (Love, Twofold by Xielgnihhan Amasahdympaehk )
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