Some only love cause they need a victim
And it's not really love; more to torture a fellow:
And a martyr, willing to sell out for love-
Often gets much more than was bargained for.
Behind the eyes, a stone's worth of cold;
Unfeeling nature, when the truth gets told,
This is empathy confused for caring-
And a load of hate, well beyond the bearing.
Love may hide behind many names,
And get the blame for a lot of graves;
It's the con's taken many a man-
And lost more than it could ever save.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem