Cupid’s Lost His Mind
Cupid is drunk in the alley behind the strip mall, winged menace stumbling through cigarette butts and broken glass,
Quiver empty but for bent arrows and bruised intentions, every love shot is a misfire, another soul dragged through the farce.
His fingers are clumsy on the bow, trembling with laughter at the disaster he’s left behind,
Once a god of romance, now a vandal, a chaos merchant in baby-faced disguise–
He fires at random, shooting lovers in the back, piercing strangers who only wanted silence or a second drink,
Somewhere, someone falls in lust with the wrong body, somewhere else, devotion sours and dies before it can even think.
He hit me once, right between the ribs, left a scar that burns when I try to trust,
Now I’m bleeding slow, romantic hope dripping out, and every heartbeat is a cruel, bitter gust.
We follow his trail like desperate animals, sniffing out meaning in the chaos,
Chasing after phantoms, mistaking longing for destiny, pretending that pain is a sign we’re alive,
But it’s all a joke he’s playing–stringing us along with empty promises and sad songs,
The rules never clear, the targets always moving, the arrows blunted with lies.
He’s gone mad, and it’s infectious,
Every bar, every wedding, every empty bed, is an altar to his wild mistakes,
We blame him for the mess, but the truth is, we sign up every time,
Shuffling into the arena with eyes wide open, begging to be broken, begging to believe,
Playing the fool for love, pretending we’re smarter than the last time we fell for the trick,
But his laugh is all that’s left, echoing down the hallways of our worst decisions,
He sets the rules, then tears up the script,
We call it fate, but it’s just a misfire–
Sometimes we get close, sometimes we get burned,
And every happy ending feels like luck, every heartbreak a lesson we’ll just ignore again.
Still, we keep chasing, can’t help it, addicted to hope,
Longing for the one moment when the arrow flies true,
But all we get is confusion, longing, nights spent rewinding the story,
Wondering where it went wrong, or if it ever could go right.
Maybe someday, we’ll give up the hunt, trade all this madness for something honest,
Something quieter, realer, something that doesn’t sting when the fantasy dies.
But tonight, we’re all tangled in his web, falling for faces, names, bodies we barely know–
Lost in the confusion, telling ourselves this time will be different,
That we’ll outsmart the madness, dodge the wrong arrows, find the love that doesn’t leave us raw.
But every new kiss is a bet, every “I love you” a dare,
We’re addicts in the world’s oldest hustle, clapping for Cupid as he tumbles off his perch,
Arrows raining down on the crowd, and no one safe, not even the ones who know better.
He’s lost his mind, but we’re still lining up for the shot–
Willing to take the pain, hoping the bruise means something,
And if it doesn’t, we’ll blame him anyway,
But the truth is, we’d let him wreck us again, every single time.