Dear Cupid,
I hope you read my letter, I hope it doesn't come as a shock,
I am tired of the jokes, quit shooting that arrow of yours,
You only hurt people in the process. Don't you know that arrow kills.
I've died a thousand death since you shot me, it's like I die every time I'm next to this person.
Wasn't love meant to be a blessing?
All I get is disaster, and I'm stressing!
Stop calling it love. It's worse than d effect of bombs.
Careless injuries, heartbreaks that shatters loudly like the sound of drums
Destroying my self-worth and making feel like a scum
Giving me dust and making me wish only to be gone
The so called love is blind indeed
I have not been me, not been able to see clearly
I reaped weed even though I thought I planted seed
This is meant to be a fruitful journey, but since I embarked, all has been nothing but blurry.
I'm tired, I no longer wish to play this game
All you have done is succeed in making me hate this name
This name that has been so overrated and played with for fame
This name I have now come to hate is LOVE and to hell with its supposed gain
From the broken piece of the girl who loves no more.
photo credit: google