If it's only self destruction

That serves as the greater antithesis

Than would you value your life more

If all your goals broke free of hypothesis

Overestimate your objective analysis

Subjected to emotional torment

Rationally is victimized by desire

Judgement is clouded

Nothing you can do



Emotions scatter in foreign wind petal breeze

At first in origins, fluent and shapeless symmetry

Time passes, and people change

Calligraphy is written in my blood, suffering in the silent rain

All I hear are the crows now, dancing at my corpse, laughing at me

Stained with bloody chrysanthemum flowers, has my art consumed me?



In philosophical pursuit, knowledge is my dialysis

Cold spectral for emotional deciphering of true analysis

Sustaining me with sweet nourishment

Ginseng or dragonfruit to revitalize

Secrets abound by darkest passion

I am but a scorpion I must admit

To my vengeful poison you are invited



Weigh the logic in your heart

And the emotions in your mind

Balance is key should the two roles be reversed

But my obsession, and my art,

Shall be buried along side me in my hearse