I See The Night Visions In My Head…
On Paper I Will Make Them A Mural…
I See The Day Visions On Their Energy I’m Fed…
In Front Of Me They Seem Plenty And Plural…
Paint The Prose And Describe With Pencil…
Let Neither Thought Or Idea Go To Waste…
Ease The Mind Let The Soul Use Me As A Stencil…
Run From The Madness But To Thought Anarchy Make Haste…
Mix Regret With Joy And Shorten Happiness With Melancholy…
Make Anger A Blade And Joy The Other End Of The Knife…
Too Much Indulgence Forces Clarity To Feel Jolly…
Sour Words Bring Pain Bitter Actions Invite Strife…
Go Back To The Board And Draw Up A Life Of Pleasure…
When Returning Home Think On Humility And Peace…
Invite Turmoil And Frustration To The Grey Room Looking Full Of Treasure…
After They Go In Lock The Door And In Time Their Strain Will Cease.
-TheDreadedWriter-