But, Anna, love does hurt

Driving away from a wreck of a day
you tell me you’re falling to pieces
I turn from the mirror to glance far away
not to stare at my own broken pieces

An abhorrence, you called it, this thing I call love
but you gave it to me, my creator
I stare at the gates as they swing shut above
I’ll repent for this sooner or later

Excerpted from Shattered

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