Writing love is kinda hard

I didn't write it for you
I write it for myself
I always been a selfish lover
My heart always decieves me time and time again
And so steep I buried myself in my own lies
that in my dreams and visions I see only you

I'm not the only who walked this path
Everybody gets consumed by darkness at one point of their lives

But maybe because of you
I learn how to write again
Beneath the poison lies the antidote

And so, I sat here thinking
about the strangeness of this predictment
About madness, forgiveness, and that even
monsters can learn to love themselves
to the point of forgiveness

And maybe, after being a barren wasteland
of thorny roses and ruined castles
of bloodlust maidens
and weakling princes who love them

Maybe I can learn to love again
and pour that into the pen