Miserable Embrace
(Please note that this is an old poem I wrote and does not represent my current feelings)
Love is melancholy.
With love, there is no care.
To find love, it's just to find despair.
To lose it is to find misery.
There's no happiness. It's just not for me.
There is no joy. Only pain and sorrow.
If I went to bed with love today,
I would wake up with sadness tomorrow.
Irrelevant-Insanity Community Member 
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