A pot of gruel with infused flavor
With a hint of fear, a ray of betrayal
Sprinkled iwth compassion and a dash of dazzle
Lust groping at envy but not vying for gluttony
Where does this all lead to for poor old love
Deep beneath the vexed emotions of hate lies a small sunshine of love
Whimpering and hoping to get some attention
But all in vain
Because this life wont have it a weakling struggling to sit and wait while a storm of mistrust looms in the corner.
