Love.
A simple word.
Some hate.
Both have the ability,
to crash our world.
We sometimes want neither,
Sometimes we get both.
But neither can exist,
without the thing we call hope.
If we are given a gift,
lets hope that its given with love,
because if its not,
our world could explode.
If that should happen,
then born is hate.
Hard to destroy,
but easy to create.
Hard to create,
but easy to destroy,
is love.
The word of joy.
I wrote the poem a few months ago. While traveling to Donegal the other night, I got bored and decided to make this. The song is Without You: Busted. I do not claim it is mine. I do claim the poem.
I would be grateful for any feedback.
