A Diffrent Shade of Nauseating

Love is word, this is obvious.
But it’s so important; such a fuss.
Love is affection like a mother and her kid.
Love is horrible like a paint that you need to get rid.
Let’s be honest, love is not so great.
In all actuality, it’s something to hate.
Love is vanity, and love is fake.
Love is a horrid thing for fools to take.
So destroy you photos and your love mail.
Love letters are meant to be throw away into a pail.
Love involves people a lot like a mannequin.
Only one willing to lose and not win.
Love is a different shade of nauseating.
Let’s hope our morals stay inside the diamond ring.
So gather up your family and your trusted friend,
After the wedding, let the charades being.
‘Until death do us part’ isn’t what it use to be.
Divorce, death, and cheating is now easy to see.
Broken hearts just came back into style.
Hopefully they’ll be trendy for a while.
Broken hearts were always a jest,
In a car crash sort of way at best.
Nothing good comes from devotion,
Just a batch of the same emotion.
Love feels like razorblades, feels like ghosts.
Feels like snakebites and speeding around corners on coast.
Feels like a coma feels like nothing anymore.
Feels like a wound, with salt, that’s always sore.