In fate's good graces we are slain
A feeling called love impedes our regular thoughts.
As tough as the defenses we put up are,
They are torn apart as if it were a thin sheet of paper.
And at the mere sight of our beloved, we're ravaged inside-out.
Stripped of our reasoning, images of bliss surfaces in our minds.
"Professing" becomes nothing but a first thought
And we are subjected to either rejection or acceptance.
After an unexpected turn of events, Acceptance becomes as good as rejection.
An "elongated rejection", I'd say.
Either way, we are left broken
By the ones thought out to be our significant other.