My Ailment
Such a tormenting and hateful act,
In the heavens a very accepted fact,
Love torments more than a tormenting plague,
With such meaning awfully obscure and vague,
Once so pure thought to be,
Used in anger plaguing eternity,
Now a sin tormenting a pious fool,
A sin so aloof and used as a tool,
Tool of humans used as a weapon,
To lure, trap, and massacre in just a second,
With nothing to lose but their own empathy,
Making hearts so sore existing solely for cruelty.
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