She wonders if she should tell him her story
for they say history repeats itself
thus we are trapped in a monotonous cycle of events
stuck in a circle of karma.

They say pretenders are worse than murderers
the pretense of indifference, the death of a joyous spirit.
The flu from a cold shoulder has no cure
as ignorance is bliss but not to a heart broken
for you can never ignore the fact that a part is missing.
Every teardrop is a waterfall, in her eyes he saw Niagra
but good guys don’t ask
for the beauty of the rose tramps the pain from its thorns.

The past is linked to the future by the present
that gift, lying in his arms
listening to his heart beat to a tune written by God
his love a melodious song sang by Angels.
She hates him, she hates all men
but it kills her inside to blame him
a blame he bears unconscious of the fact,
all men are dogs.

You can never see the beauty of the rainbow
without enduring the eclipse from dark clouds over the sun
so he lies awake, it’s 3 in the morning
unaware of where she is, dancing tango with the devil
worried this time she won’t return.
His story seems to repeat itself
same script, different cast
falling for the caterpillar
awaiting the butterfly to break from the cocoon
a soldier of love in this heartbreak warfare.

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