Define love.
Is it the glazed eye ridden of hatred or the uplifted creased smile of knowledge?
Is it the affection a mother possesses for her first born; adoration?
Or is it the passion lovers dwell upon?
They say love holds no boundaries; it is a just leader of fate.
But to the forged eye who has observed the outcomes of love from afar, love is a tyrant.
A plague of Egypt with no saviour to rid the innocent of its grasp.
A foul demon prowling, stalking his prey.
Love exists, but alas, love is a façade.
An illusion to hide the scars of battle.
For love is ugly, and seeks beauty through lust and passion.
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I haven't witnessed love first hand, but I have seen marriages break and violence like no other. Where's love then?