Love is a fire that fires without seeing oneself; It is a wound that hurts, and does not sit; It is disgruntled contentment; It's pain that undoes without hurting.
It is no longer wanting to want; It is a lonely walk between us; It is never content to be content; It's a care you get by getting lost.
It's wanting to be stuck willingly; It is to serve those who win, the winner; It's to know who kills us, loyalty.
But how to cause your favour In human hearts, friendship, If so contrary to you is the same Love?
