The Beating Monster Screams.

Not one single, not a thousand, falling stars. Not a devastating flood formed by the saddest collection of desperately fleeing rain drops. Not a dozen dreamy bedtime stories falling from your lips to their ears. Not one could compare to the fall for you. Fate shot a thrilling, darkly enticing kind of pain straight into the blood rushing through it's veins. Swallowed the most heart warming, breath taking poisons packaged beautifully in bottles labelled Love. Choked down tears by the teaspoon, inhaled angry words captured in the smoke of preferred slow death vices, consumed promises lacing the bottom of the bottle. Passionately shared lips, lovingly kissed fairy tales, dug it's fingers deep into the heart, pulled out the purest attempts at complete bliss; and finally it exhaled our love. No, please don't be mistaken. The love you had once knew of, believed, felt, encountered is real. Unquestionably occupying the hearts of the worlds occupants. But that, however, is not what feeds life into out beating hearts. The love we share was crafted, designed, created entirely by fate for our souls.  Our love possess a power than could devastate nations if only it could transform more simply into a missile. Love conceived in a black shade of white, born to conquer heaven and hell.