THIS IS WAR.

My roommate--who I've known about three weeks, now--just came in to my room bawling because of something she found out about her recent ex. Obviously, the wound is still pretty fresh (even though she had thought it had healed for the most part). This girl is such a sweet girl. It breaks my heart to see her treated the way she's been treated. It's sickening, really. It made me realize how closely related love is to war--the constant battle to keep one's heart intact. As a result, I wrote this little something:

Tears seep from between your fingers

Innocent bloodshed in this war

That is love

The weathered veteran is here

To tell the green recruit

That peace does not belong within you

Unless you’ve earned your own

Scars

What is peace? Does it exist?

Some say it’s a myth—myself,

I do not know

This veteran cannot tell you whether

Love

Is a myth or fact

The battlefield remains a mystery to all

As battered eyes survey the area

This is war

This is war

This Is War.

So, smear on some war paint and let out a piercing battle cry to the moon and say 'NO' to broken hearts. Because broken hearts are worse than drugs. Not saying you should do drugs. I'm going to bed.