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By Bhoomika

Love may be a drug for some

An addiction hard to quit

A blend of the best and worst of sentiments

Finer than the last remaining cigarette

For some, it is the exact opposite

They don’t love, they love to loathe

They wield their hatred like a weapon

To destruction, they troth

While others are addicted to Regret

Oh, what a drug to abuse

Slowly leave the soul shattered

And the heart, bruised

But the worst of them all

Is Hope for sure

It’s a disease ingrained in the very soul

Ironically, with no hope for a cure

By Bhoomika

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