Priyanka Roy

February 26, 1995 - India
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I don't know what Love is and it shares me to death

I don't know what Love is and it scares me to death.
I have witnessed my father's negligence.
And my mother's love for her life, an untrue pretence
I have seen my brother's addictive influence.
I have seen the eradication of our existence.
If this is love then I don't want it.

I don't know what Love is and it scares me to death.
I have felt my uncle's, cold heart
His wife's hatred, part by part.
My cousin's pinches. His best art.
I have felt my childhood depart.
If this is love then I don't want it.

I don't know what love is and it scares me to death.
I have had friends. Cheap. Fake.
The guilt I recall as a big mistake.
They say its strictly a game of give and take
They doubt allegiance, the claim you stake.
If this is love then I don't want it.

I don't know what Love is and it scares me to death.
I have endured it in the name of tyrant lust
A lover's misery, a lover's mistrust
Leaving one to self-loathing, inflamed in base disgust.
That said a woman is nobody but dust.
If this is love then I don't want it.

I don't know what love is and it scares me to death.
Or perhaps I did,
In the dark galleries of secret pages, it hid
Where I read about fairies, monsters, family, friends, lovers as a kid.
It breathed in life in my feeble breath
So shall a new life afford in death.
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