Why does it hurt?
Is it love or hatred?
Is it comforting or confusing?
Am I happy or sad?
It seems to be the opposite of what I’ve been told.
It seems as if it’s not just a word but a fairy tale
to be told to those who haven’t felt the bitterness of it …
The same excuse that killed our mothers …
The same love that got them married,
is the love that killed her.
The same love that made her cry everyday
The same love that lit up the happiness,
The same love that turned happiness into big flames
that are burning the hearts of the innocent.
The same love that left me without a father.
Why should we love
if love is so confusing?