When I met you,
I thought you were the best thing ever happened to me,
Well that's the thing, you see,
When one falls into what one may think as 'love,'
When one's 'in love',
Even their smelly armpits is like fragrant,
But would one sense the odour?
Not when in a blind state, one won't!
Pray to God,
That one realize the mess after weeks,
That one snaps out of it after years,
Cause by then times gone a-wastin',
Opportunities of better ones come passin',
The small scratch turned into a deep wound,
Which may turn incurable like cancer.
Be careful with this thing one may call 'love'
Do you know what 'love' is?
Perhaps, perhaps, one should know what it is,
What and where this 'love' would get us into?