Hell's gotta hand in tragic love,

No one dare tell truth -
to that which holds power to crush.

No one warns; nor ever mentions,

the inferno, love can quietly become;

tap your feet,

spell bound with your endless of charms,

savoring sound of the pumping beats;

crave they all do,

weeping for which tortures, and seeks to elude,

only takes once to escape the clutches of you;

the ones left burned, yet, somehow numbly come back,

time of time again, and you happily laugh at that;

the sinister grin that stitches your face,

always has reason to come out and play;

no one has been sturdy enough to stand,
to foolishly not fall,

that which defines us,

love -

it likes us to crawl.