Love is a tornato tossing emotions like a toy.

Love is a fisherman. The worm looks so good and inviting; but if you take a bite, you'll be on someone's plate within days or even hours.

Love is a wound that at the most unrespectable times is ripped from the arm of the lover causing a bloody mess.

What is love? The cut or the bandage? The cold or the blanket? The rose or the thorn?

Oh, love of hate! Oh, love of pain! Don't wait to take your prisoner!

Oh love is a red rose that doth prick the fairest hands.

Do you marry tell death do you part or love death do cause?

Love is a room, damp and dark. Rotting from the pain and sorrow. A room that hasn't seen a light in years. It waste away slowly to a plie of rotten wood.

Love is a knife aimed to kill the soul and leave the heart empty.

MORE TO COME!