Love Is... Poem by Strange Fruit
Love Is...
...an unintentional untruth,
yet a deliberate falsification.
A hidden evil force
waiting patiently to
contaminate your mind.
Once it's jaws are locked
you're helpless,
your plea for escape is futile,
as it quenches its thirst
with your blood, sweat and tears.
Leaving an invisible blemish,
but making you more immune.
Making it harder for love to strike again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 1:26:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
