I will hurt you,

Just as you will hurt me.

Isn't that beautiful?

To hurt

And be hurt.

To love

And be loved.

Isn't loving someone,

Sentencing yourself to pain?

Then, why pray,

Do all still love?

To hurt and be hurt,

Is to love and be loved.

I long for you to hurt me,

So I don't doubt my love for you.

I long for me to hurt you,

So I don't doubt your love for me.

Horrifyingly beautiful.

As all things are and should be.

 

Fools protest,

And exclaim their distaste.

Am I not speaking the truth, then?

Fools,

Narrate me tales,

Of true beauty

And cruel horror.

What beauty is only true?

What horror is only cruel?

Do tell me if you know,

If you'll ever know.

It is like this,

Whether or not we're ready to admit.

Nothing in this world is beauty

And nothing in this world is horror.

We cannot expect love,

The most horrendous of them all,

The most splendid of them all,

To be the one exception,

When it is actually the best example.

My point stands,

Against the rage of them all.

My point stands,

As long as I shall stand

And all those who nod their head,

After they have read.