Food for thought

Why does it have to end,
The devotion and passion.
The wonderful frame,
Why does it vanish fast.
Is love a lost child,
Crying for support of few.
Is it the single mother,
Fighting for her own son.
Who really cares for you,
The world of many or few.
Illusions of images do come,
Of love in caring for someone.
They glow in singularity,
For plural is not for them.
Its hidden in caveats of deceit,
Some take it,others throw it.
Irony is commonplace thus,
Of love deserved and not got.
Games are played in sinew,
The dice rolls in a known cue.