Is love even real? Is it all just a
dream or a fantasy? Did romantic love ever truly exist? This is the
question humans have been asking for so long. But it's hard to know.
Yet some strong souls walk alone and are in love with life and the
earth and nature. Seeing the magic and wonder in each and everyday.
Many souls don't really know if love is
real. I once thought it was real but as time flowed I didn't want to
believe in love, it seemed it was just a dream I would never be able
to reach. But why in the bloody hell am I telling you this?
At night as I sit by my candles burning
I often wonder if love is real. As I never quite have good fortune
when it comes to love. I have written many dark and sinister poems
about how much I hate love. Yet again why should I harness so much
anger for something that may not even exist. Tell me my friend: Why
is a raven like a writing desk?
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