crappy poem i wrote wile half asleep

As one might think, you must work for love. Love is something you earn though your own love. But i myself believe love is just like those things you stumble upon wile cleaning you room... Forgotten, till it sets right in front of you. You twirl it in you hand. Examine it. And put it somewhere safe so you wont lose it. But sometimes we lose them anyway. Then its time to clean you room again .