Love I do not know myself,
Though I know many peoples that have.
Love’s an illusion to oneself,
Most times perfect friendships it halves,
For people are so keen to find mates,
But know not they about love’s most common fate.

Love’s the fast sun: fleetly flying,
Love’s a naïve sheep, always lost.
People in relationships like a child: always crying,
People in relationships’ emotions are cold and frost.
Hast thou not heard of temporary and transient feelings?
For the youth’s infatuation high like any ceiling.

Think they yon folk is the perfect and their future “one,”
But, O’, love’s so ubiquitous—the love thou feelest isn’t genuine.
For it's only the start: the chain of emotions have only begun.
Soon it shall leave and then come again, in breakups they are denizens.
“In the pool of love I am in,” then “I stayed too much for what I was meant for.”
Thy emotions shall be manipulated, feelings beguiled, and thou shalt beg not for more.

I was ne’er face-to-face with love, but one thing I shall advise;
In thy youth, O’, prithee, I pray to thee, get not an illicit paramour.
Thou shalt know for thy heart, a paramour is oversized.
Thy time shall be overfilled, in sadness thou shalt be lured.
“I saw him!” or “I saw her!”’s snap out of,
That’s the game that is being played on thee by love.

Th’art being jested by obsession and infatuation,
Th’art...