The butterfly called love is here
I think it not so great
It flitters, sits, flies away
And then turns into hate
I really should stop feeling,
All my friends have said
You really will go crazy
With all that in your head
Easer is said than done
Or so the poets say
The memory it haunts me still
On lonely passing day
What is thats so intriguing
Surely not the sex
Could it be all images
Contorted from a hex
What triggers these emotions
These sudden fits of rage
Could it be releasing
My feelings from a cage
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