This mental haunting malady of mine,
With doleful interference and quick pace
Consumes my every thought with artifice;
It’s magisterial and rules my days.
I know that I am crazy and confused,
But chaos never promised me a rose.
And though my days are not so wisely used,
I hear all speech as poetry in prose.
Yes, this is life when you take things to heart:
It’s harsh and caustic to a great degree.
It burns and takes your spirit all apart
And tells you, “They’d be better without thee.”
That sanguine rose lies far beyond my reach,
Surrender to what I am here to be.
With doleful interference and quick pace
Consumes my every thought with artifice;
It’s magisterial and rules my days.
I know that I am crazy and confused,
But chaos never promised me a rose.
And though my days are not so wisely used,
I hear all speech as poetry in prose.
Yes, this is life when you take things to heart:
It’s harsh and caustic to a great degree.
It burns and takes your spirit all apart
And tells you, “They’d be better without thee.”
That sanguine rose lies far beyond my reach,
Surrender to what I am here to be.
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