Cruel Love

“I think I made you up inside my head.

For you to stay, here with me, I pled.

But now my vision has turned red;

Does it matter? I will soon be dead.”

“Are these memories real or fake?

They disappear when I am awake.

Profoundly do my minds now ache,

How often can a poor heartbreak?”

“I long for you when I see rain,

But all it does is bring me pain.

Questioning whether I am indeed insane,

“No”, say the voices in my brain.”

“Casually you walked out the door,

But for forever, you had sworn.

At midnight, I wait for you on the shore,

Picturing my body on the river floor.”

“How do I fix my frenzied frown?

In this clear water, I shall drown.

Chirping is the nightingale brown,

With trembling hands, the poet writes this down.”

Love is the cruelest emotion of all,

Paired with lunacy, it could be one’s fall.

In grief, dear reader, you may bawl,

For my madness, I drown in alcohol.

Took her own life, Miss Plath, a mad girl indeed;

Now her love songs, I cry and read.

The red I see from my hands as they bleed,

From love’s cruel clutches, I have been freed.