love,
i think it is.
some time or another,
it comes after us all.
you never know who or when,
why or how,
it just happens.
everyone finds their own way
to express it.
some through affection,
some through poetry, music, song, dance
some through death or other ways.
when love picks you,
you can run, can hide, but
you can't get away.
once you know it, you can't deny it.
it is horribly lovely and
sweetly painful.
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