You thought you knew yourself until love started taking over.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d
call love a tyrant.
A heartless, selfish,
thought-stealing tyrant.
But, that’s only if I didn’t know
any better.
I know far better.
Love is more like a disease.
A tapeworm curing itself inside
your dreams.
An annoying itch that spreads like
wildfire across your skin.
Yeah, good luck sleeping tonight
with that hanging over your head.
Love is the bags
under my eyes because I haven’t slept in ages.
I’m just about ready to overthrow the government and claim my
thoughts for myself.
Too bad their permanently, desperately, stuck on you.
Every.
Little.
Inspiration.
Comes from you.
Please stop making me love you, and let me sleep.
Stop keeping me up late, writing these senseless poems.
