my pen dances to the rhythms of grief
like a mighty cow trampling the field for green food.
I hold its tip_ each drop of ink is a dedication
to the unfading scars hung on my flesh.
just then, a lassie walks majestically into my life
singing a strange song with lyrics of love.
She attempts to steal away my heart
but I have locked it already
yet she tries to con me with a romantic accent
which my heart pays no attention to.
She introduces the subtitles of love,
preaching hard to convert my soul
yet her sermon makes no sense to me
cause in my own story, love is an outcast
with a pungent smell of disgusted air.
She is unwanted, for her presence stinks away my sanity.
In my heart, I strike out the letters that spell love
cause love is nothing but the epitome of grief.