Love is suicide.
When it’s gone, a piece of you has died.
It leaves your emotions being denied.
It leaves questions that your significant other keeps confined.

There is no truth in the game of love.
The one that was thought to have come from the heavens up above.
Is nothing more than a than cheap imitation of a white beautiful dove.
It is not them that has done you in, but the word called love.

It is a tempting fruit with juices that flow so sweet.
Yet it sours over time and some even turn into deceit.
In the beginning this word makes you feel complete.
Yet it leaves you empty with your head down in mortal defeat.

So I say to you all, love is suicide.
The mere speak if it is your finger on the trigger to which you reside.
Your heart has been pierced with a broken arrow unto which you have cried.
No need for violins in this demeaning saga, it is the word love that has lied.