Love is an unhappy thing,
Born of life's false joy.
A fleeting glimpse is all one gets
Before it breaks, like a toy.
To seek out love, is to invite
Such sorrow and anguish,
That it must, of all things be
The price one pays, for foolishness.
Ah, but love's great happy days
Sooth this aching pain
But like sun on a cloudy day
One knows soon must come rain.

Years may pass, but hurt remains,
For as long as ink lasts, so does my pain.

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Ios, in the year 54 MA.