Poisoned gifts

About love, life, death and loss.

Love might not be a gift, but a curse,

if it makes everything so much worse.

When in life there is no perfection,

or a way for absolute protection.

 

A dangerous path lies ahead,

and everything hungs by a thread.

Why am I always so serious, and sad?

Why do I always see all the bad?

 

Inside the heart of a criminal,

lies the instinct of an animal.

A beast of carnal pleasure,

for a flower I do treasure.

 

War has casualties on both sides,

beneath a smile, death hides.

The future always brings loss,

and I find no redemption in the cross.

Author's Note

All reviews are appreciated.
Thank you, for taking the time to read my work.