Painted by John Park
I will never understand,
for as long as I live,
why people crave so hard,
why people ache so bad,
to fall in love.
I know that falling is nice,
falling is like flying,
and flying is nice,
but when the clock strikes 12,
one will have to pay the price.
Landing is tough,
landing is rough,
there are cuts on the face and neck,
and blood on the thighs and head.
The heart is broken into several pieces,
and air is taken out of the lungs.
The knees lose life and strength,
and the sides become so badly bent.
I hope they learn a lesson or two.
I stand by the scene and I watch,
hoping they’ll never, ever return,
but people climb on love’s hill again,
with smiles on their lips
and laughter in their mouths,
wobbling with a partner in hand,
to fall into that dark pit once more,
to die again.