Love (this is NOT a love poem)

Our thoughts are crossed by uninitialized tensions
These constant flowing vibes spun from greed of desired emotion

"I need you here", are the words uttered from consequential mouths
Unaware of the damage recorded onto themselves and time to come

Those broken hearts and shattered songs have only proclaimed for soul's own naivety
Blame the thieves of afterglow as they run with their spoils
but you are to blame for handing them the key

Young hearts, do not allow yourselves to be wagered among shallow intension's
You've hadn't much to grow on and stories told only of happy endings tend to hold little truth
Children you are to these tales,
little do you know your own self is soon to play role in tragedy

Darlings, innocent souls and lives soon to be wasted, do not falter to these ideals of joyous endings
For reality has forsakingly proved only to burn these hopes into tiny embers of lost stories
Watch them blow in poisoned waters, and you shall spend your lives chasing after these glowing ashes long after they have turned to soppy disclosed nothings.

Running desperate lights of broken windows charge to the nearest haven they see
Thinking upon that cloud they shall find solitude

Sadly they seem blind till distance proves deceitful when peace has transformed to disguised anguish
Discretely hidden beneath calming waves, then sprung out of the lullabies of foam to reveal a wall of raging flame

Oceans of screams, "I should have known" as the embers come tumbling upon those unsuspecting souls
Hoping merely for redemption but left only with a lost grasp of stones

How did you all not see those waters? Screams even prevented a lasting breath of air

Perhaps you did hear the tumbling roar but acted as if the beach was sullen for the sake of your false happiness,
Perhaps a stage of placements and painted scenery of your paradise were all you desired,
The props and costumes were all you needed to contain this fake emotion born from neglect and abuse

Perhaps a story written with ink used in the acts of romance as in same of tragedy were all you acquired to dance this masquerade of happy endings

For objects of that amount could never truly exist in the forbidden world which we call our own.

*I know alot of people are going to say that this belongs in the love poem section. Well, I did not add it there because this is not me praising or critisizing the whole concept or spilling out my gratitude or mortification of the emotion, this is my definition.*