Love
As the arrow pierces your heart, fear not,
The end is not near,
New life has just begun.
Naturally, nervous hands grip the rough shaft,
With each turbulent tug more blood drips.
The blood spits,
it spews,
it spouts, like a never-ending fountain.
The mistake is never forgotten, as you breathe your last breath,
Each breath, pulls you closer, to your timely death.
A Frantic mind wanders,
then it wonders:
What if you had not felt the fatal pull,
remained together with your fateful dart?
With your drastic instinct, you made yourself extinct,
As you would rather die, than to have an arrow pierce your heart.