Childhood is awe
Youth is uncertainty
Adulthood is steady realisation
Middle age is bleak acceptance
Old age is beating or succumbing to all
It all depends on what you did,
What crazy suicidal tendencies you had
When you were uncertain about everything.

Insanity is a gift
Few relish like you
So if you are unsure of your footing
Don't wobble, dance
If you are unsure of what you will find
Don't stretch your hand out, charge forth!
****** noses, cringeworthy memories and broken relationships may spew forth, but
Nothing
Hurts
Like
Regret
In
An
Unnused
Insanity.

A stampede of oxen
stumping the head
Cacophonous Canaries
Crucifying the mind

Needles avalanche
Down the cerebrum.
Tranquility a scarcity.
The skull longing to be hewed
In half so it can breathe again.

My little box, tell me the truth
I can't see brightness
I can't hear happiness
I'm torn in little pieces
I'm within fire storm
My little box, don't blame me
When I miss my torturer
When I miss my torture
When I miss my pain
My little box, it's not your fault
It's my fault to love
It's my fault to trust
It's my fault to be hurt
I'm the only one to blame
My little box, show me
The way to my agony
Feed me with your misery
Jail my hopes and dreams
And have me put to sleep
My little box, grant my wishes
To never have a life
To never be happy
To never wish for coming days
And never let her leave you again

He wonders in an ascending thunder.

He roams in an aspiring trail,
which excites without fail.
He please's like a contagious disease.

Do you love me, do you hate me?
The little boy used to ask.
A smile in his eyes,
used to confuse
and bemuse.
Some it would anger,
and to some,
it would intrigue.
But,
he knew,
it was only a smile.
Mischief was his game,
adventure his name.
Love in his heart,
to the end from the start.
Till death to him part.

If I collected all the tears
I have shed for you..
It would be an ocean..