Court out
The insanity of madness could
With dubious acclaim
Attach itself, should love be true
By any other name
To periods within us all
When drawn into that farce
That reads so oddly once removed
Or times when love has passed
There is no cure, there is no trial
For committers of the crime
So take each sentence, sum it up
Accept and do your time.
Christopher Dawson
Wed 18th Aug 2010 16:41
Thanks Issi, appreciated.
Cheers too Cynf, stick it in as you please. love is, afterall, complicatedly simple.