The rage of love turned sour, pure discussed to know the one you called your mirrored soul has been nothing but a fake.
To have only been loved for the good times and picture perfect looks; yet once the ugly has reared it’s head, the tears, sorrow, rock bottom times and yes I dare wear sweats and no makeup…ahhh how you soon find yourself alone.
You love, you trust and why wouldn’t you, after all good comes with the bad but love you must, all the same.
In the time of need, scared and all alone you look around to realize you gave up everything for but a false truth…in the end you are the fool. The joker, pointy tri colred hat, belles and all.
Dance the dance of fools and weep the tears across the eons as many have, for no wiser you are than the house of dec that fell.