The death of love is ever tradgic,
But the birth of it is such sweet magic.
My love is lost to me,
But I don't wallow in self-pity.
As badly as they want me to die,
I only wake to find myself cry.
They burned me; scarred me; and killed me,
All I wanted was for them to see.
My love burns and intoxicates,
Yearning only for them and not the golden gates.
Though death still beckoned with such intensity,
I turned her down with hopes of a new destiny.
I gaze at her with eyes of ice,
And make yet another sacrifice.
Her golden eyes and dark red hair,
Are enough for anyone to take in air.
His black hair and hazel eyes,
Make almost anyone sympathize.
His beauty matched only by hers,
But neither can be mine because of what occured.
I turned him down,
And made her frown.
Now, hated by both,
I've finally lost all hope.