in love we find a piece of happiness
as it grows are minds begin to go
from room to room finding things to stop this emotion
for we are human
love to some is glory
others a waste of time
in many ways it is both
but still it will defeat us
if love were a fight
choice of weapon would be spear
as we fight to stop it
it punctures our poor heart and leaves us in a pol of lust forever wanting more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem