Everyone thinks
love is for him or her,
But it is not,
It isn’t for everyone,
To most of us,
its fake, pirated copy would fit,--
a poor quality imitation;
just enough to give us
a false sense of comfort and security.
Real love is intense,
It’s a storm,
I don’t think most of us
can bear its naked authenticity,
It burns, singes, hurts, peels,
robs us of the fake sense of comfort,
plunders hypocrisies,
strips us naked to face our frailties,
It has very sharp edges
in its original version,
No wonder
the majority buys the fake copy,
Just like essence of honey
mixed in a drum of plain sugar.
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