A poem on the truth about love.

The world is fixated on the belief that love is blind.

Love is not blind,

For love choses to be blind. It chooses to be stupid.

Love chooses to look past which it does not want to acknowledge.

It chooses to believe the good.

It chooses to believe that they are the one thing that would eliminate the bad which that person is contempt with.

Love seeks only love – hoping that it would be perfect.

The sad truth is – everyone chases after perfection,

But perfection is all but a fantasy.

Yet love choses to believe that perfection exists.

Love chooses not who it loves,

But it chooses how it loves.

Hence, love is a choice and love chooses to be blinded.

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