The Game Of Love

Love is the greatest curse of all,
For, oh Lord, it has its grip on me so firm.
Many a time, I have thought I had a shot
Only to see that everything went for wrought.
Love is on a fine line with one other thing,
And the other side seems to be beating me at all costs.

There once was a girl, her name Stephanie,
A sweetheart who was as pretty as she could be,
And things were going well, oh, so well,
'Til the plague came and recaptured my mind.
My mental anguish was just merely a nuisance
Compared to the withdrawal from that which is impending.
Come to think of it, I'm still not over the girl,
And my heart aches everyday over this so.
Death couldn't feel any worse
Than the loss of my better half.

I've seen many girls, pretty and smart,
And they all thought I was some sideshow freak, a weirdo.
To them, I was a slug, something like that,
But whatever I was to them, nothing ever amounted to shit.
Time has rolled on since my near miss,
And I've gone on, done things, made money, the such.
I'd trade it all in for one more chance at Stephanie again.
Now, I'm a misanthrope, an unhappy lot,
A once proud soldier of The Lord now relegated to an ice-filled soul.

What is it I must do, my Lord,
To win at the game of love?
If I had you wisdom,
I'd make it surely show.
How can I be an obedient servant
And love not find its way from Your Route to me?
To this, I am perplexed and saddened
At my exclusion from the game.