LOVE GONE WRONG

How did we go from being on cloud nine to now?
We were so high in the sky and now we feel to solid ground

Feels like we're separating and acting like complete strangers
We start off cool and then we fight and it is danger

I still feel the same way when I first met you
But it seems like you want me gone, what did I do?

I know we've grown and changed over the days
but there are times where I still want to act those ways

Do you still feel the same way? Do you still love me?
Are we supposed to move on? Is this how it's meant to be?

I'm so stuck and confused! I don't what to do!
I want to move on and forget but deep down, I still want you

Letting go, that's my weakness should I wait or move?
All those memories are still stuck in my head from dusk til dawn

You not being here makes everything worse and bad
I'm so frustrated, confused, aggravated, it's making me mad!

If we continue this way, who knows how we'll end
It's either we're still talking, being together or just friends

I feel like I lost you, I don't know what do
Please don't elt go of us, because I still love you.

Love always seems to be true...

But when you need love to come through...

It will abandon you.

Love will blind you...

No one can find you.

You ignore friends...

and break what were to be long lasting mends.

Love will always hurt...

when it throughs you in the dirt.

But when love is true...

like the sky is blue...

It will save you.

Many people look everywhere...

and never notice the one thats there.

We are resolved into the supreme air,
We are made one with what we touch and see,
With our heart's blood each crimson sun is fair,
With our young lives each spring-impassioned tree
Flames into green, the wildest beasts that range
The moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change.

With beat of systole and of diastole
One grand great life throbs through earth's giant heart,
And mighty waves of single Being roll
From nerve-less germ to man, for we are part
Of every rock and bird and beast and hill,
One with the things that prey on us, and one with what we kill. . . .

One sacrament are consecrate, the earth
Not we alone hath passions hymeneal,
The yellow buttercups that shake for mirth
At daybreak know a pleasure not less real
Than we do, when in some fresh-blossoming wood
We draw the spring into our hearts, and feel that life is good. . . .

Is the light vanished from our golden sun,
Or is this daedal-fashioned earth less fair,
That we are nature's heritors, and one
With every pulse of life that beats the air?
Rather new suns across the sky shall pass,
New splendour come unto the flower, new glory to the grass.

And we two lovers shall not sit afar,
Critics of nature, but the joyous sea
Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star
Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be
Part of the mighty universal whole,
And through all Aeons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!

We shall be notes in that great Symphony
Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres,
And all the live World's throbbing heart shall be
One with our heart, the stealthy creeping years
Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die,
The Universe itself shall be our Immortality!

How steep the stairs within Kings’ houses are
For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread,
And O how salt and bitter is the bread
Which falls from this Hound’s table, better far
That I had died in the red ways of war,
Or that the gate of Florence bare my head,
Than to live thus, by all things comraded
Which seek the essence of my soul to mar.

“Curse God and die: what better hope than this?
He hath forgotten thee in all the bliss
Of his gold city, and eternal day”
Nay peace: behind my prison’s blinded bars
I do possess what none can take away,
My love, and all the glory of the stars.

Two crownèd Kings, and One that stood alone
With no green weight of laurels round his head,
But with sad eyes as one uncomforted,
And wearied with man’s never-ceasing moan
For sins no bleating victim can atone,
And sweet long lips with tears and kisses fed.
Girt was he in a garment black and red,
And at his feet I marked a broken stone
Which sent up lilies, dove-like, to his knees.
Now at their sight, my heart being lit with flame
I cried to Beatricé, “Who are these?”
And she made answer, knowing well each name,
“Æschylos first, the second Sophokles,
And last (wide stream of tears!) Euripides.”