confused about self... a poem by P.C

porky

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Love is false,
Love is lies,
Love is for those who have no life.

they say that love is divinity, divinity of what?

the cocooned ideal of sharing belief?
the lust you feel before you sleep?
the need to lean on when in pain and confused?
the idea to belong is the proof you are strong?

the negatives they whisper "is to be left on the shelf"
when all you want if LIFE for yourself.

but then they retort that the self is a negative,
an uncaring ideal for the unapproachable...
an excuse to shunt and close a door to the world,
a life that leads to bitterness and twisted thought,
for to belong to no one is no life at all....
 

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