Why do we keep gong at it?

Could it be that love is an ocean?

and we're clashing waves riding high and low,
so some days we are still,
others we get aggravated then shrill,
as we swish and swash 

 'cause it's no longer a thrill,

its inconsistent motion has made us love sick.

Could it be that love is war?

and we're engaging in friendly fire

raising emotional barricades to shield our hearts,
from verbal and non verbal bullets

whose triggers are pulled by our partners
having failed to solve matters in diplomatic manners.

Could it be that love is a game?
Where we are competitors,
and in this Colosseum,
we fail to fathom the reality

that we are a team,

and that to go past whats grim,
we need to pass it.

to end the score that’s putting us at war.