Love is not patient
Nor is it kind
It rips through your soul
With intent to blind

Beware little sisters
Cleave tightly thy breast
Where sweet words are spoken
Lies death and unrest

Apply minds to better pursuits
Strengthen where disposition weakens
For such vulnerability
Shines through, a becon


Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Mayan, in the year 641 AF.