In this world can be found two types,
Some ruled by love, some ruled by loath,
But you are the one that's torn among both.

A rebel at heart, a monster at mind,
And yet there is something that still serves to bind.
A glimmer of love, undimmed by hate?
Or just an illusion beneath a darkened slate?

Truly there might yet be something there,
But lost and confused, like a feather in air
Affection and anger that swirl like a storm,
And unleash the monster, the Bowser's full form.

The object you crave is a victim most sweet,
Tender and kind on the lightest of feet,
A lovely princess with beauty most fair,
More precious than gold the shade of her hair.

But to capture one's heart is to capture one's soul,
And to you she resists granting that single goal.
To capture her heart you must release her whole,
And listen to the needs of her own yearning soul.

To feel true love is to understand,
And accept the truth given in the palm of your hand.
No young love is ever certain to be,
But if you do love her, you must set her free.