Passion
Passion, it lies in all of us.
Sleeping, waiting, although unwanted, unbitten.
It will stir.
Open it's jaws and howl,
Its speaks to us, guides us,
Passion rules us all and we obey.
What other choice do we have?
Passion is the source of our finest moments,
The joy of love, eclarity of hatred and ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bare,
If we could live without passion,
Maybe we'd know some kind of peace,
But we would be hallow.
Empty rooms, shuttered and dank.
Without Passion...
We'd be truly dead.
