Love is not what it presumes to be
It mocks you
Says one thing
Yet does another
Or does nothing at all
It fills you with rage
But when you are in its presents
Even in your darkest moments
You cannot help but be happy
Be grateful
That such a thing has found you
Many will die
Without ever knowing such passion
When your eyes become red
And your claws come out
The battle will end quickly
But never be over
Love is never so beautiful
As after a war
Waged between two passionate children