— purely unedited.

Love is like a sailing ship,
drowning itself in madness;
and it is held in God's grip,
while there be flitting sadness;
and it brings us to our fear,
like the Titanic fall;
shielding us from our hear,
in the the soft winter wall;
for now all the lovers,
have become dutiful blind;
for as the greek hovers,
they must claim their find;
and as their souls gather,
for a catastrophic feast;
love they do lather,
over the people of their heist;
as over the mountain,
the sun has finally woken;
as underneath the fountain,
the moon has finally spoken;
and while the victims file,
the tempest all but nears;
and while the clouds smile,
the day of midnight leers.