A Fickle Emotion

Love is quite a fickle emotion.

It’ll find us at the worst of times,

It’ll find us at the best of times.

And at that moment of being found,

We can only guess at how we’ll be bound.

For the emotion is not only fickle.

It’s all consuming.

It’s a roller coaster.

It’s a never ending ride

That hardly has a care for what you

Think,

Want,

Say.

Over the bumps.

Over the mountainous hills.

Over the ragged, stormy sea

And through the meadows where the wind

Rolls over the hills on a clear, sunny

Day.

It’ll drag you along,

It’ll force your heart to sprint

While all you can hear is

Th-thump, Th-thump, Th-thump.

For love is quite a fickle emotion.

It’ll drive even the best of us mad.

We question ourselves,

We wonder what could have been

Better,

We over think the smallest of things.

And while this all goes on

It continues to pull us along.

Playing us like marionettes in a

Shakespearean play where all our world

Is but a play,

And we the simple characters to be,

Ridiculed

Pitied

Laughed at

By the peers that gather round to watch

For their own petty

Amusement.

Tragedy?

Humor?

Who’s to say what’s what

In this fickle emotion called love?

And while we’re dragged along

And while we’re being watched

We all gladly struggle.

We readily get played

To a tune only we can

Hear.

Because what a

Wonderful,

Agonizing,

Beautiful thing

The fickle emotion of love

Is.

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