by Rama Celine Mahmalji
I often stand along and ask myself, what is love
Is it the feeling that fills the emptiness in our souls,
Or is it the butterflies that in thy stomach evolve,
Oh, maybe it is just a way to ourselves console
How many times do you fall in the dark
Once, twice, or infinite times
Is love truly an ever-fixed mark
Or is it just a feeling that with time declines
Does love deserve all the tears wasted,
Or all the nights spent with misery
But what about all the moments with joy painted
Oh, I am afraid I can’t solve this mystery
Love is a lie, an illusion that’s created by fairy tales
But only believes in it whose heart is frail