Love

Love is quite a peculiar thing; burneth in a blaze, ready to sting
There's no way to acquire, nor to evade; cannot be destroyed, only may fade
Say that thou lovest, if so thou desirest; now thy heart beateth at its highest
"How doth one know?" – so thou mightest ask; and I, thy songwriter, shall fulfill this task
If love's toxic fumes thou seemest to inhale, thou shalt feel thy mind burst into gale
Other than that, thy stomach could tell; it ought to be filled with butterflies from hell
If a few words are stuck in thy throat; no-way they would budge, unable to float
Or if thy smile is stupidly persistent; all of those tell that love is existent.
It healeth every wound, relieveth all the sorrow; bringeth thee hope for a brighter tomorrow
Hath no remorse, this deadly flame; what an amazing and trecherous game!
Brighter than suns, sparketh in a glow; darker than abyss, and deeper below.