Pushing, pulling, writhing, convulsing
The pain, the effort
There is so much in life, and love
What is life, but one less thing to long for?
What is love, but one more reason to ache?
We have no choice, in either
It its yes, or no
And to sever it is terrible
We decide our actions, but little else
Life and love are cast upon us, like die on an innocent table
