Where is the Love?

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Picking you up,
Peeling you down,
Pulling your insides out,
Peeking through every hole
To see everything inside
That jumps around,
Where is the love?
They often talk about,
That lifts you up
And smacks you down,
And giggles a peal of laughter out,
And makes you smile
When you are trying to not,
And you are thinking a lot
Of the things you said,
And how they never
Reach that shroud,
All your wasted breath,
Don’t make a sound,
But they surely reach
Some distant cloud,
And then it rains,
It pours through
Your eyes so bad,
It makes you mad,
Those books you read,
Stories in bed
Were nothing but some laboured lies,
Such a fool you were
To think that people felt
What they claimed to feel,
Weren’t they playing a part
In a play of dreams?
And you put them through
Your idea of love,
And slaughtered them in a crossfire.
Why is there a gloomy day
Knocking at my head today?
It is still riled by the lie,
They often say,
And then forget to act it out.
They just paint things they like
With a color they think is right,
And give all matters of blood
Their very own shade of red,
And then secretly hope for others
To follow suit and keep up.
While some refuse its existence,
And choose to be –
Stuck in the middle,
They can’t fall on either side,
For falling would mean
A surefire death,
And then its meaning would go
And visit a hazier town.
Then you wouldn’t know
Where it lurks,
What people often talk about.
Where is it?
Where is the love?

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