Their hearts are weak from yearning
Struck with madness of which they wish never to be rid
Have mercy on them
When fools tears fall, no sun will rise until their hearts are quenched
Their struggle will persist until the world yields
What lengths they will not go, what rock they leave unturned?
Passionate hearts steering the mind that has forgotten its purpose
To laugh or reprimand is to increase them in grievance
Please, be easy on the lovers
What soul is tortured more than the rational lover?
One whose heart yearns violently while the mind protests prudently
Inner sanctum devoid of harmony
Making nights restless, days tedious, thoughts torturous
Never allowing oneself relief for fear of consequence
Patience against temptation
Patience in hope that this passion will subside
The heart may slip into desperation or mutate into a cynic
It may mature with experience and add in character
It may forever languish with unrequited love
What ever the case the warning remains the same
Be easy on the lovers