Alone I’ve walked, many days

questioning love, taken away

Was there ever love?

Or was I the fool?

If the lesson to be learned

is that love may not last

why would one ever

rise to such task?

How could it be love

if the question need be asked?

Or, once knowing all this

does one give, trying to selflessly pretend

that it is not the very thing for which we all live?

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