‘Life is for living’; the past-participle of which
is to love and be loved
for without love
nothing can come of it.
The fuel to the fire
is the lack of desire or
that which ignites it;
the yearning for love which burns stronger then any flame and yet
fiercer; A Crematorium of pain and anguish.
The pushing and pulling eventually wears thin and
the strain, of not giving a damn, means that
I just give up.
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