Love is like a blanket.
Covering your cold heart.
Love is like a knife,
carving you to pieces.

Some people rot, searching
for this painful love.
Some people never stop,
never really seem to think.

There are many types of
love. Firey and passion-
filled. Slow and gentle.
Hell. There's even wrong.

Wrong love is the worst.
Where you think you're
meant for that special
person who loves you.

Well. Then you find out,
you were never meant to
be all along. Then what?
Back to miserable life?

Oh, no. You cry and cry.
You heart, poor thing,
breaks into pieces.
Because of wrong love.

You thought they'd be
there for you. You
thought they cared.
Why didn't they love you?

It was wrong love. Wrong,
woeful love that was like
fire. As fire burns, it
consumes everything.

Once there is nothing left
in your heart to burn,
the fire leaves. And takes
the only water with it.

Love is horrible.
Like war.
Love is wonderful.
Like peace.

Love kills.
Love brings joy.
Love kills.
Love brings tears.

Is it worth it?
Do you even want,
that strong chance
of being "wrong"?

Of having your heart
completely smashed to
bits and pieces. Of
being utterly alone.

But, also, of being
lifted up by happiness.
High into the sky, you
can soar on only love.

But only, if it's
not the wrong
kind
of love.