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The Mourn

All's fair in love and war?

I could ambush, I could deceive, even kill
In the name of all that's good.
For war is a means to an end.

But love, love is pure.
An end unto itself.
Any lie told in the name of love
Lies low
And deftly, daftly,
In the small, quiet hour of the morn
Murders love.