Love is the lie that keeps us alive,

All things living need it to survive.

A flower nestled in the crevice of slate;

Needs the interest of the bee to find a mate.

A defenceless fawn hiding in grass;

Nurtured by a mother, her own needs surpass.

But in the depths of beauty intertwined,

The fascade of tangled lives undermined;

For at the heart of every act of love,

Is the selfish need to be thought of.

Life only cares of carrying on

Love is a tool, but then it is gone.