What is love but a battle field
Torn limbs
Broken hearts
All layed out to be displayed
Scars that run deep 
heart ache that sometimes can't be healed
Yet we throw our selves so willingly into this war
Always saying this time we will win
We will stand before all at the top of the mountain 
victory in our hands 
only to fall
Then curse and question 
why not me?
We are slaves to this war 
its perfect little soldiers forever marching 
climbing 
praying to survive its wrath
And some do
But each heart, its own battle field 
in this greater war
Making us stronger
Harder
and sometimes even bitter
Staining our souls 
as we march searching 
searching for the one who can fix us
Clear us of our battle wounds 
and some times forgetting 
that they to have fought this war
and share the same scars as we do
Love is war 
it leaves us 
broken, 
battered 
and torn
Riffles in hand
Marching 
in this never ending battle 
for love