Carried to transcends on the tip of things sublime
Hate is a monster of our own imagine
Carried as a tool to fix our fear.
In the synthesis there of, lies a marriage
A sharing of vows to mange the winters.
The love of process is sanities only rule
Let it lay between affectionate and cruel.
Love,
It's lost, no one sees after
but she always sees me.
Temporality holds no key with her
there as she has fashioned,
Here, as she has persuaded.
Together never felt so alone,
yet the comfort of our strength
quells all fears, dims all threats.
It is the ends of being!
Love?
Hate!
That refract to reflect our unity.
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