Love of Any Kind

wooden heartI’m sitting here in the deep dark black,

wondering if I’ll ever get back again…

Riding on a wave of self sorrow,

Yesterday and tomorrow I deny a friend.

 

A world on the brink of disaster,

Eroding faster and faster in dirt….

Collectively being so broken,

hatred being a token born of hurt.

 

Yet through all of the darkened thoughts above,

The only way out comes back to simple love.

And all the peacemakers shake their minds,

and the bastards of war break their spines…

 

On thoughts of love, be it yours or mine,

it always comes back to love of any kind.

 

A lost boy, stomach filled with aching void,

his sadness has been deployed at us all…

Seeing the world through hungry eyes,

that despise those that won’t heed his call.

 

A girl sunken in the mires of abuses,

world of lame excuses to why she’s just fine…

Hiding in safe shadows of peaceful illusion,

a legacy of tough confusion that is a bitter wine.

 

This is an evaluation image and is Copyright Acclaim Images LLC. Do not publish without acquiring a license. Image number: 0071-0906-0321-4605. http://www.acclaimimages.com/_gallery/_pages/0071-0906-0321-4605.html

Yet through all of the darkened thoughts above,

The only way out comes back to simple love.

And all the peacemakers shake their minds,

and the bastards of war break their spines…

 

On thoughts of love, be it yours or mine,

it always comes back to love of any kind.

 

And how you might have treated others is never as bad as how you treated yourself…

Any goddamn bloody pathetic excuse to place all you really are back on the shelf…

 

If I can love myself the deep black fades away,

If the world would just wake up we all could play.

The boy could eat, the girl could sleep,

In a world free of pain, utopia by name.

 

Yeah everything would be just so fine,

If we’d all just take the strain and start the reign of love.

 

Yet through all of the beautiful thoughts above,

The only way in comes back to simple love.

And all the peacemakers shake their minds,

and the bastards of war break their spines…

 

On thoughts of love, be it yours or mine,

it always comes back to love of any kind.

Thomas Spychalski

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